


all we have we lose

by Lise



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asgard, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Depression, Developing Friendships, Gen, Healing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loki Has Issues, MCU AU Fest, Mind Control, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Slash, Thor: The Dark World Compliant, a plot but a lot of emotions mostly, weird friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has two options: be refrozen for an indefinite amount of time until someone can pry Hydra's hooks out of his brain. Or, go to space and see if they can do any better. </p><p>He goes to space. It turns out there's someone there who knows a thing or two about messing with peoples' heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all we have we lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts).



> Thank you to my recipient aurilly for such excellent prompts. All of them were so delightful I had a hard time choosing where to go, but ultimately how could I _not_ write Bucky/Loki for the author out there who made me think about it in the first place? I hope you enjoy. Things got a little away from me (as they so often do), but I hope I still managed to capture the spirit of your prompt(s). 
> 
> Thanks also to my ever patient beta and friends who helped talk me through the sturm und drang that is my writing process. It couldn't happen without you.

“Bucky,” Steve said, almost pleading. “This is the better option.”

“Space aliens,” Bucky said flatly. “That’s the better option?”

“Better than freezing yourself indefinitely? _Yes._ ” Steve was facing him like he was squaring off to fight, and it was making Bucky itch. Or maybe that had more to do with Wakanda’s king standing a few feet to the side, arms crossed and watching them both, expression impossible to read. Or the space alien standing at a polite distance with his back turned, though Bucky was fairly certain he could hear everything they were saying. “Asgard’s technology is more advanced than anything on Earth – no offense, Your Highness,” Steve added. T’Challa’s eyebrows rose maybe a hair.

“None taken.”

“Their healers might be able to help. Or figure out some measure that would mean the words wouldn’t work on you. Something that isn’t…” He trailed off, took a deep breath. “Of course it’s your choice. I just wanted to make sure you knew what all the options were.”

Bucky looked at Steve and felt suddenly tired, because he knew he couldn’t do it: couldn’t go back under. Not if there was another option. He owed Steve too much, and a selfish part of him was relieved, because the thought of being frozen still made him feel like crawling out of his skin.

But mostly it was what he owed Steve.

“Fine,” he said, looking away from all of them. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Steve sagged and Bucky felt a small amount of relief. “They’ll be able to help you,” he said. “Buck…thank you for giving it a try. And when you come back…” He trailed off, glancing at T’Challa.

“You will be welcome here,” he said, expression still mostly impassive.

 _And what if they can’t help me,_ Bucky wanted to ask. _What then?_ But he didn’t. It was too obvious that Steve needed this, and Bucky…well. He knew why they were hiding in Wakanda, and it only had a little to do with the Sokovia Accords.

Which was how he ended up standing on a rainbow in space with his head spinning, trying not to gape too much. “Welcome to Asgard, James Barnes,” Thor said gravely, and Bucky was too busy staring to respond.

* * *

Bucky trailed after Thor, trying to keep his internal gawking off his face and pay attention to what Thor was saying. “I am afraid I will not be able to be as attentive a host as I might like,” he said. “I am…my father is in the Odinsleep, recovering his strength, and I must act as king in his stead. That will occupy much of my time. But not all, I am certain,” he added quickly. “And if you should need anything, do not hesitate to ask. You will have rooms to yourself, but you are free to go where you will, as you will.”

“No one’s gonna.” Bucky glanced at his new, Wakanda-made arm. “Think I look suspicious, or anything?”

“Some…may be curious about the presence of a mortal,” Thor said after a pause, sounding like he was choosing his words carefully. “But no more than that.”

Bucky wasn’t sure he liked the sound of _curious._ Sounded too much like _a curiosity._ Still, he nodded. “I can handle myself. Hopefully this won’t take long, right?”

“Hopefully,” Thor agreed. “Would you like to rest, or would you rather I escort you to the healers direct?”

“Direct,” Bucky said, hoping he didn’t sound too rude. He might not know Thor, but Steve liked him, and he was apparently a king. “Sorry, just…I want to get this over with.”

 _Don’t have a lot of great associations with medical professionals,_ he didn’t say. Now that he was actually facing the prospect of having some alien doctor poke at him, the prospect made him jittery and nervous.

Still, even his nerves weren’t enough to keep him from sucking in a breath at the sight of what had to be the palace. Gorgeous, sprawling, and golden, towering above the city around it. It looked almost unreal. “Wow,” he said under his breath. Thor smiled, looking with him.

“It is beautiful,” Thor agreed, though Bucky though he heard something wistful in his voice. He didn’t ask, though, just continued following Thor up to the gates and through into the ground of the palace itself.

A few guards greeted Thor – guards Thor identified as _the Einherjar_ – and Thor introduced Bucky to one of them he said was the captain as “James Barnes of Midgard, and my guest.” Bucky nodded in answer to the bow he got, and noticed only after the fact that he’d been assessing weaponry and defenses like Captain Bjørn might be a threat. Or a mark.

He pushed that thought away, focusing on what Thor was saying again. “My closest friends are away, but should return soon – when they come back if you require anything and I am unavailable, I urge you to turn to them. In the meantime – I will assign you a servant who can-“

“No,” Bucky interrupted. “I don’t need a servant.” The idea of having one made him want to cringe. Thor gave him an odd look, but he shrugged slightly, probably passing it off as a Midgardian oddity.

“As you will.”

It was only a little further before they reached what Bucky took to be their destination, though there was no smell of disinfectant or sickness. Two women speaking quietly to each other looked up at Thor’s approach, only looking briefly at Bucky.

“My prince,” one of them said, bowing. “How may we assist you?”

“I have brought a guest from Midgard in need of your aid,” Thor said. His voice changed, subtly, and Bucky wondered if he was even aware of it. “This is James Barnes, a personal friend.” Bucky glanced at Thor, trying not to let his eyebrows twitch at the generous designation. Then again. He got the impression Thor was the kind of person who made friends fast.

“What ails him?” One of them asked. Bucky twitched.

“I can speak for myself,” he said, maybe a little sharper than he should’ve, but even if it helped that this was nothing like any of medical facilities he’d dealt with, he still kind of wanted to crawl out of his skin. “There’s – some people messed with my head. I want everything they did gone.”

The healer who seemed to be more or less in charge frowned at him for a moment, and then looked back at Thor. “This is highly unorthodox-”

“I am aware,” Thor said. “But it is beyond Midgard’s means to heal him. If Asgard can do more, I would have it done.”

“Very well,” she said at length, and then turned back to Bucky. “Come.”

He glanced at Thor, who gestured agreement, and followed her into another open room, some kind of flat table with an apparatus above it. He balked, stopping short, a coppery taste flooding onto his tongue.

“What is that,” he asked, aware that his alarm was audible but pretty sure he couldn’t stifle it.

“A Soul Forge,” the healer said, as though he were a little slow. Bucky stared at her, and she elaborated, “It is no more than a diagnostic tool, to identify your ailment.”

“It is true,” Thor said. Bucky twitched when his hand landed on his shoulder, but he didn’t push it off, even if a part of him wanted to. “It does no harm.”

“To you,” Bucky said. “How do you even know if it works on humans?”

A brief flash of melancholy crossed Thor’s face. “My…it was used on Jane Foster, when she was here, to no ill effect. You will be fine.” His smile was small, but managed to be reassuring nonetheless. “Be at ease, James Barnes. I would not let harm come to you.”

Bucky shifted, and finally pulled away and stalked forward. “So I just…lie down on it,” he said. The healer inclined her chin, looking mildly irritated. Bucky took a deep breath through his nose and let it out.

 _It’s fine,_ he told himself flatly, climbed onto the table and lay down, pressing his hands flat and trying not to clench his teeth. The healer made some sort of gesture and light flared that took a moment to resolve into…a vaguely body shaped form, though no left arm was visible. His, Bucky supposed, and he looked away from it.

“Relax,” the healer said, still sounding irritated. _Sure, I’ll just do that,_ Bucky thought irritably, but he did his best. “I am going to summon one of my assistants. Stay still.”

Bucky closed his eyes and focused on breathing. “Are you well?” Thor asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Bucky said tightly. He was pretty sure, anyway. Even if he didn’t like anything about being flat on his back and knowing some strangers were about to poke around in his head, or even just poke around looking at his head. Like he hadn’t had enough of that.

It was only a few seconds before the healer returned with another woman in tow, the two of them speaking quietly to each other. The one in charge went back to what seemed to be the controls, her partner standing beside her.

Bucky curled his hand into a fist, fighting to hold still. It didn’t _hurt_ but he couldn’t help but brace himself for that to change. He could feel something _prickling_ around the inside of his skull, like fucking _spiders,_ and wondered if he could get them to knock him out for this. He was starting to think if they didn’t he’d end up trying to sock one of them in the jaw.

Then: “ah, yes,” she said. Bucky jerked.

“Yes what,” he asked, trying to sit up. The assistant pushed him back down with one hand, and Bucky’s adrenaline spiked. They ignored him, though, turning to Thor.

“What is it?” He repeated, frowning.

“We have identified the…aberration,” the healer said, still speaking over Bucky. “But it is difficult to separate what should be from what should not.”

“Hey,” Bucky said roughly. “You could try talking _to_ me instead of over my head.”

The look the healer gave him was something like if a dog had talked to her. It reminded Bucky a little of the way some of Hydra’s scientists had looked at him. Like a _specimen._ He clenched his fist and closed his eyes, counting his inhale and exhale.

“What are you saying,” Thor asked. The healer glanced at her assistant, then at Thor, then at Bucky. “Make yourself clear, Lady Nissa,” Thor said, sounding a little less than pleased.

“This is not a sort of magic we are familiar with,” the healer, Nissa, said after a long moment. “And it is woven such that it would be…dangerous to meddle with. We would risk causing significant damage to other parts of your mind, and there is no certainty that it would mend the damage that has already been done.” At least that was nominally addressed to him. His stomach dropped.

“So you can’t do anything,” Bucky said flatly. He knew he shouldn’t have expected anything, but some part of him was still disappointed. He’d come all this way – all the way to a fucking _alien planet –_ only to hear that they couldn’t do anything more than Earth could to fix him. And it was only the disappointment that made him realize he hadn’t just been doing this to humor Steve.

He didn’t want to go back to being frozen. Useless at best, a liability at worst. A burden.

He wanted to be clean.

The healers glanced at each other again. “No,” Nissa said, and she almost managed to sound gentle, but the kind of gentle you might use with a frightened animal. “I am sorry. Our healing is advanced, but this is not the sort of thing many have expertise in. There may be someone among the Vanir…”

“No,” the other healer said quietly. “The only one still practicing died, but a year or two past.”

Bucky slumped. He let his head fall back with a quiet thunk. “Great,” Bucky mumbled. “That’s. Great.” He didn’t look at Thor, not wanting to see the pity on his face.

“Thank you for your efforts,” Thor said roughly after a long silence. “If you would allow me and James Barnes a moment of privacy?” There was a murmur of assent, and Bucky closed his eyes, listening to them file out. He knew he should thank them, too, but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

“I am sorry,” Thor said quietly. He sounded sincere. Bucky just shrugged.

“Just means back to plan A. Which was what I was going to do in the first place, so…and hey. Now I can say I visited an alien planet.” He couldn’t quite manage to inject any real excitement into his voice, but then, he didn’t try that hard.

Thor exhaled. “It cannot be so hopeless,” he said, sounding frustrated. “There must be some means of…” He trailed off, going quiet, and Bucky opened his eyes to look at him. Thor was frowning, his gaze distant.

“What,” Bucky said sharply. Thor’s eyebrows pulled further together, and then he seemed to shake himself.

“There may be another option,” he said slowly.

“Another option,” Bucky echoed. “You mean, for me. Something else you can do.” Wariness made his skin prickle. “What kind of option?”

“There is…someone who may know – _does_ know - more of mind magic than the healers.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, and Thor glanced at him sidelong. “If you want to speak to him, I can have him summoned.”

Thor was being vague, and Bucky knew it had to be for a reason. Still, some stupid part of him grabbed at _another way out_ and he couldn’t quite let go of it. “All right,” he said slowly. “Why didn’t we start there?”

“You will understand when I take you to him,” Thor said after a long pause. He called one of the guards and passed on some instructions while Bucky got up, detaching himself from the Asgardian apparatus. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this, but…he wasn’t agreeing to anything. Just investigating his choices.

If it didn’t work out, there was always cryo.

* * *

He followed Thor through several hallways to the end of one Bucky judged to be far from the center of the palace. “What is this other option?” He asked. Thor paused a moment before answering.

“My brother.” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“The evil one?” He said. Thor looked like he wanted to wince.

“Things have…he has changed. And he is a prisoner. I am not saying…I know it is not an ideal answer. Far from it. But if the healers can do nothing…” Thor trailed off. Bucky made himself keep moving again, saying nothing. Thor brought them up to a door and stopped. “Here. If you do not wish…I will, of course, abide by your desire.”

 _My desire,_ Bucky thought. _I don’t even know what the hell that is._ He cracked his neck and blew out a breath through his nose. “Why not. We’re here.” Thor examined him seriously, then nodded, opening the door and letting himself inside.

“Brother,” he said. “You were told-“

“Why I was so abruptly summoned? Yes. We have a guest, apparently?”

Bucky took a deep breath and followed Thor in, stopping barely a step over the threshold. The hair on the back of his neck rose. The man sitting at the table made no move to rise. Bucky had seen his face before, if only in some blurry photographs and reports after the New York incident. The real thing was…different. His hair was longer and wavier, and he looked thinner too, but that might just be the clothes. The way he held himself he might as well have been sitting on a throne, and his expression was studiously bored. He didn’t look much like a prisoner. “Well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t James Buchanan Barnes.”

“You know me?” Bucky said, not moving. He might not have _met_ him, but he’d certainly heard Loki’s name. And he was pretty sure he knew enough.

“Know of would be a fairer description,” Loki said, his expression one of mild interest. “I do like to be acquainted with my enemies, after all, and you loom so _very_ large for Captain Rogers. Or is that past tense? I see you are here alone.”

“Not alone,” Thor said, not quite a growl, and Bucky saw Loki tense.

“Ah, of course,” Loki murmured, a different kind of poison seeping into his voice. “A different yellow-haired rescuer.”

Bucky kept his face blank. He had a lot of practice at that. It seemed to bother Loki, which was just a bonus.

“Mind your tongue,” Thor said, and Bucky saw Loki’s shoulders wind a notch tighter and realized that having the two of them in the same room was just going to be counterproductive. He also wasn’t excited about the idea of being alone with Loki, though. “Bucky is our guest, and you will treat him with respect.”

“I will, will I?” Loki’s eyes bored into him, and Bucky made himself look back even though something about that stare made him want to look away, or down. “Are you going to threaten me into obedience?”

“What does he know about healing,” Bucky said to Thor, before he could respond. Thor gave Loki a hard look and then turned pointedly away.

“Loki has some…familiarity with manipulation of minds and their control,” Thor said.

“What Thor is trying so delicately to avoid saying,” Loki said, his voice dust-dry, “is that I used magic to bend the minds of a select few Midgardians to my will.” Bucky tried not to jerk back. Loki smiled pleasantly at him.

“Loki,” Thor growled, and then turned to Bucky. “The weapon he used to do so is gone,” he said hastily. “If I thought there was even a small possibility he might harm you, I would never have brought you to him. But the healers are at a loss, and I thought perhaps…he would not be using magic on you.”

Bucky kept half an eye on Loki, who was watching with what looked like polite interest, chin propped on his hands. The back of his neck itched. “Then what _would_ he be doing?”

“Only talking,” Loki said. “Asking questions, seeing what I can ascertain about your…unique condition. I am told I am a great conversationalist.”

“I bet,” Bucky said, biting off the end of the t and not looking away from Thor, who looked uncomfortable. “Was this part of your original plan or are you improvising?”

“I did not hear about this until perhaps a half hour ago,” Loki said. Bucky bit down the urge to tell him to shut up. He was pretty sure that would just be feeding the beast. Thor glanced toward his brother very briefly.

“I knew it was a possible option,” he said, clearly hedging. “If not an ideal one. But whatever else he is…Loki is clever.”

“And what else _am_ I, Prince Thor?” Loki asked, his voice full of sharp edges, and all right, Bucky had had enough of this. He turned fully to Thor, putting as much of his back to Loki as he dared.

“Can I talk to him for a second,” he asked. “On my own.”

“Brave of you,” Loki said. Bucky ignored him, though Thor frowned in his direction.

“You may,” he said, though he didn’t sound pleased about it. “Loki…” He didn’t speak the warning, but it was clear in his tone. Loki’s smile was patently false and made Bucky’s skin crawl worse, like he was covered in a thin layer of slime. He didn’t like this, but he didn’t like the idea of giving up or backing down, either. “I will be just outside,” Thor said, and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

“And now we are alone,” Loki said silkily, pulling his hands away from his chin to sit up straight. “What _shocking_ things do you wish to discuss away from the mighty Thor’s delicate ears?”

There was another chair in the room. Bucky strode over and dropped into it. “Not that shocking,” he said bluntly. “I just want to know what you get out of this and I figure there might be less bullshit if Thor isn’t here.”

Loki blinked, looking very briefly surprised before he hid it. “Is that so.”

“I’m not interested in playing third wheel to your little dance step,” Bucky said. Loki studied him, the false smile dropping away, eyes narrowing. Bucky looked back at him. “So. What do you get out of this?”

After a long moment Loki shrugged. “Relief from boredom, primarily. Were you expecting some sort of altruism?”

“No,” Bucky said frankly. “Not a reduced sentence, or something?”

Loki barked a laugh that was surprisingly harsh compared to the silkiness of his tone a moment before. “Hardly. The Allfather has no plans of letting me off his leash again.” Bucky stayed stock still, waiting. Loki seemed like the kind of person to fill a silence, but to his surprise Loki didn’t, just looked at him, head cocked slightly to the side.

“Seems like a pretty thin reason,” Bucky said finally.

Loki raised his eyebrows. “And what sort of nefarious motive would you credit me with, Sergeant Barnes?” He managed not to twitch at the title that was most definitely not his anymore, keeping his face blank. He didn’t want to give Loki anything to grab onto.

He shrugged. “Couldn’t guess.”

“Perhaps you think I have designs on your mind, or plan to attempt to manipulate you into securing my release. Or that I hope to learn some new tricks from whatever your fellow mortals have done to you. Or that I hope to demonstrate that I am a contrite and reformed person, in the hopes of some future leniency, perhaps even small privileges if not release.” Bucky said nothing. Loki blinked slowly and then scoffed, pushing back from the table. “Think what you like. It costs me nothing if you refuse.”

Bucky pressed his lips together. The current had shifted again, and he couldn’t quite pin down how. It wasn’t a good feeling. “And if I agree?”

“Then I might be able to help you.” Loki spread his hands. “Your choice.”

Bucky tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking. _Terrible idea. Not like you have a lot of options. Go back to Steve, tell him there’s nothing, put you back in deep freeze for who knows how long._ He could picture the look on Steve’s face. After everything he’d given up keeping Bucky alive…

On the other hand, this asshole.

“All right,” he said. “Conditions. You don’t call me Sergeant, you don’t mention Steve, and you keep whatever your issue is with Thor out of it.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “I can hardly do the last if he is to be hovering over your shoulder.”

Bucky shrugged. “Then he won’t be.”

“Not worried about being alone in the room with the beast?” Loki said. Bucky kept himself from drumming his fingers on the table, or his leg, dropping them to his side and locking eyes with Loki.

“Your words,” he murmured. “And no.” He leaned forward a fraction. “I think your teeth have been pulled. Somehow they’re keeping you from being dangerous to anyone. With a sword hanging over your head in case you don’t toe the line.”

Loki coiled tight, the last traces faint, mocking smile he’d been wearing dropping fully away. “And there isn’t one hanging over you?”

Bucky’s thoughts flashed to the cryo chamber, briefly picturing it as a mouth open to swallow him whole. He stood up. “So I’m right,” he said. “And no. Not worried. If you’re jerking me around, though…”

“You’ll kill me?” Loki drawled, expression shifting back to slight boredom.

He’d been thinking of making some kind of threat, but Bucky changed course. “Nah. I’ll just leave, and you can go back to being bored and useless for the rest of your, as I understand it, pretty damn long life.” He knocked on the door. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t make it ten years before throwing yourself out a window.”

He thought Loki might’ve said something, except Thor came in first, looking back and forth between them. “I’ll do it,” Bucky said. “I’ll meet with him. I don’t need a chaperone, though. I can handle myself.”

Thor’s initially pleased expression turned doubtful almost immediately. It was almost refreshingly easy to tell what _he_ was thinking, anyway. “Are you certain that is wise?” He asked. Bucky wanted to look and see what Loki did with that, but didn’t.

“I can take care of myself,” he said. “And he’s snippier with you around.”

“Is that a problem, dearest Thor,” Loki said. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, catching movement in his peripheral vision, and only then realized that there were fine, golden chains linked to fragile looking metal bracelets around Loki’s wrists and attached by a fairly short lead to the table. They didn’t look like they’d stand up to one sharp yank, but Bucky supposed they probably had to be magic of some kind. He was a little impressed that Loki had managed to hide them.

Image, Bucky noted. That was Loki’s obsession. Something to remember.

“It is Bucky’s decision,” Thor said stiffly, but he didn’t sound happy about it. “Come,” he said to Bucky. “We can discuss this further over supper. A guard will be here to escort _you_ later.”

“Not inviting me, beloved brother? For _shame,_ ” Loki’s voice rang out in the last moment before Thor closed the door behind them, a little too hard. Bucky watched Thor’s expression go between sadness and frustration and anger and grief before he shook himself.

 _You make me glad I was an only child,_ Bucky almost said, but he got the feeling Thor wouldn’t appreciate it.

He wondered what the story was there. Maybe he could ask Loki, play two truths and a lie.

“I do not want to question your decision,” Thor said eventually. _But you’re gonna do it anyway,_ Bucky thought, but waited. “Are you certain it is wise to…Loki is skilled at manipulating people even without the use of his magic.”

Bucky caught himself drumming his fingers on his leg again and made himself stop. “If he starts trying to convince me to attack Asgard I’ll be sure to let you know,” he said dryly. He felt the sharp look Thor gave him, and went on more seriously. “I can handle myself. And I won’t get a damn thing out of him with you there.”

He could tell it had stung as soon as the words were out, but Thor didn’t argue further. Bucky’d just have to call that good enough.

* * *

“Your fancy jewelry,” Bucky asked. “The bracelets. What do they do?”

Day one of his Loki sessions. Bucky deliberately wore short sleeves so his brand new metal arm showed. He didn’t expect it to intimidate anyone, but it made _him_ feel better.

Loki raised one of his own arms as though he needed to remind himself what Bucky was talking about. “Decoration,” he said, flashing an insincere smile. “We are not here to discuss _me,_ are we?”

“You make it sound like this is some kind of therapy session,” Bucky said. Loki gave him a blank look, and Bucky twitched one shoulder. “I get to ask basic questions, don’t I?”

“You already know,” Loki said after a long moment, thumb rubbing across the gold band. Bucky didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “Or at least suspect. So are you asking in order to provoke me or in hopes that it will throw me off balance?”

“I’m asking cause I’m curious,” Bucky said flatly. “I don’t actually care that much about you.”

“I do not doubt that,” Loki said, seemingly unaffected. “Though it is very rude of you to say so.” Bucky said nothing, and Loki sat back. “They are my leash,” he said finally, without ceremony. “They restrict access to my magic, among other things.”

Bucky studied them, wondering how that worked. “Look pretty flimsy.”

“They are stronger than they appear,” Loki said blandly. “Besides, any tampering results in a very painful overload of my nervous system. And should that prove ineffective, it also summons the mighty Thor, hammer of Asgard, to _neutralize_ the threat.” He shrugged one shoulder. “So you see, I am very well contained.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky said, not bothering to hide his skepticism. Loki raised his eyebrows.

“What is it you doubt? That I am sufficiently controlled?”

“That,” Bucky said, “somehow you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who just sits back and accepts chains.”

“I do when the alternative is death,” Loki said simply. “Why so many questions about this? Wondering what you will face when you return to your realm?”

Bucky scratched his jaw and just looked at Loki. After a few moments he made an exasperated noise. “Stop trying to pry information out of me,” Bucky said. “I’m just trying to get a sense of how things work here.”

“How things work or how I do,” Loki said. Bucky shrugged, and Loki made another impatient noise. “I was given to understand this little exercise was for _your_ benefit.”

Bucky shifted, planting his feet on the floor. “What did you do?” He asked, checking to make sure his expression was good and neutral. “The people you controlled. How did it. Work.”

One of Loki’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you looking for a technical explanation? I do not think you have the vocabulary.”

“Then explain it using words I can understand,” Bucky said. Loki looked at him, eyes half closing.

“Very well,” Loki said, leaning back. His expression reflected Bucky’s smooth and impossible to read. “I used a magical artifact that let me contact the minds of others and reshape them to my will. Altering their loyalties, for instance. Making their desires align with my own. In my understanding, when humans do something similar it is…” Loki waved a hand. “The difference between surgery and amputation. If you will forgive the analogy,” he added. Bucky was pretty sure the analogy had been intentional, calculated to see if he’d flinch. He didn’t.

“How’d they get free,” he asked. Loki shrugged.

“I am given to understand that a blow to the head was sufficient. That kind of mental link is difficult to maintain through unconsciousness.”

Bucky blinked, pushing back from the table. “Hold on. You mean you were actually _in their heads?_ ” His skin crawled. Loki’s eyebrows quirked, and he looked vaguely startled.

“Of course,” he said. “How would they know my will if I was not in contact with them?”

Bucky tried to imagine that. Having someone from Hydra piggybacking on his thoughts all the time. Knowing everything that went on in his brain. “That’s not surgery. That’s dissection.”

“And what your masters did to you is so much better?” Loki asked. Bucky jerked to his feet, hands hitting the table.

“They’re not my _masters,_ ” he snarled. Loki nostrils flared, but otherwise his expression was still again.

“Former masters,” Loki said.

“What do you know about what they did,” Bucky said. This had been a terrible idea. He could feel himself vibrating.

“I can see it,” Loki said simply. “They bent you, and what they could not bend they broke. They carved away pieces that were inconvenient and drowned others. It is – mutilation, plain and simple.”

Bucky felt sick. “That’s rich, coming from someone who turned peoples’ heads inside out. Just with magic instead of tech.”

“And yet they are free,” Loki said. “And you have their shrapnel still embedded in your mind. My servants were servants, yes. But they were still living beings. You were a weapon, to be disassembled and reassembled at will.”

Bucky’s stomach clenched and he was sorely, _sorely_ tempted to throw up on Loki. He took a step back instead, but then something registered, belatedly. “What do you mean, you can _see_ it?” The idea that there was some kind of _mark_ on him, a tentacled skull somehow branded on him-

“Energy distorts around you,” Loki said. “To my magic you look like a twisted knot where there should be smooth currents. It looks wrong.”

 _Looks wrong. Disassembled and reassembled._ Bucky took a step back, almost tripping over the chair. “Is this supposed to help,” he said harshly. Loki shrugged.

“You asked.” He sounded utterly unconcerned. Untroubled. Bucky wanted to grab a handful of his hair and slam Loki’s face into the table.

“Wish I hadn’t,” he grated out. This was a mistake, and he wasn’t going to stand here and let it get worse.

“Would you rather I had lied?” Loki asked. Bucky stalked out the door and slammed it between them; he stood there, fighting to take slow and even breaths. This was stupid. He should just leave this weird-ass Viking planet and go back to his first idea.

He couldn’t, though. Steve, and everything he’d done and thrown away. And thinking about the flash moment of cold before freezing made Bucky’s throat close so that he thought he might run into Wakanda’s jungle before he put himself in another glass casket.

 _Not a whole lot of options._ God, but he was tired of that being his life.

* * *

It was another day and a half and two very long feasts before Bucky made the time to go back to Loki.

Bucky stopped at the door, looking back and forth between the two armored men standing guard. “Lord Barnes?” One asked. He thought about contesting the title and decided it didn’t matter.

“Is there a problem,” he said, trying not to tense. So far no one had given him any trouble other than the occasional weird look, but Bucky didn’t count on that not changing. He’d gathered that most folks here didn’t think all that highly of puny mortals.

“The Crown Prince told us to expect you,” the Asgardian said. “We have been newly assigned to guard Loki.”

“If he gives you any trouble, we will be outside,” his partner added. Bucky looked back and forth between them again, frowning.

“Did something change?” He asked bluntly. They glanced at each other.

“He has been somewhat…difficult, of late,” one said delicately. “But we do not anticipate your having any problems.”

 _Comforting,_ Bucky thought, but decided he was probably fine just ignoring them. He was planning on just…not acknowledging anything that had happened last time. He opened the door without knocking.

“If you’ve come to whine at me again, Thor, I am not inclined to hear it,” Loki said, turning, only to cut off, looking briefly surprised. Bucky might’ve found that satisfying if he weren’t distracted by the black eye and the partially healed slash that looked like it must have laid his face open to the bone and just barely missed taking out the other eye. For a half second Bucky remembered his fantasy of slamming Loki facefirst into the table and wondered if he’d done that, somehow, without remembering, but that was just stupid.

“What the hell happened to you,” Bucky asked, trying to cover his shock.

Loki looked away, vanity clearly driving him to try to hide his face. “Is my summoning here your doing, then?” He asked, voice sounding brittle.

“Probably,” Bucky said without remorse. “Is this what _being difficult_ means on this planet?”

“Asgard is a Realm, not a planet, you ignorant creature,” Loki snapped. “Is that what my new guard said happened?”

“They didn’t say anything.”

The corner of Loki’s lips twisted in a way that had to tug at the wound, but he didn’t wince or show any sign that it hurt him. “Someone took a rather strenuous dislike to my face,” he said eventually, voice fairly dripping with irony. “And when he learned that I could not respond to the challenge of his fists, he grew somewhat bolder.”

Bucky waited, but Loki didn’t continue. “So what’d you do,” he said eventually, a little impatient. Loki looked at him.

“Nothing,” he said after a long moment. Bucky scoffed.

“Sure.”

Loki’s jaw visibly tightened. “The terms of my binding do not permit violence against others,” he said after another long silence. “So yes, nothing. Fortunately for me, one of the less bloodthirsty Einherjar passed by before he got around to cutting out my tongue.” Loki’s voice was dry, perfectly matter-of-fact, and Bucky couldn’t decide if it was affected or not. He found something else more interesting.

“You can’t defend yourself?” He asked.

“No,” Loki said at length. “I cannot.”

“Huh,” Bucky said. He eyed the slash. “And you’re not dead yet?”

“Not yet,” Loki said, still with little feeling. “Technically it would be against the law.”

“I bet,” Bucky said, nearly biting off the end of the t. There was a vaguely sour taste in his mouth. “Probably just means putting the bruises where they’re not visible.” The look Loki gave him was nakedly surprised, and Bucky looked away, grimacing. “Whatever. I’ll go.”

“You needn’t,” Loki said as Bucky turned away. “I am already here. I may as well not waste the trip.”

Bucky turned back and examined Loki, but he couldn’t get a solid read on his expression. That was never one of the things he’d been good at. “Yeah,” he said neutrally, neither accepting nor arguing. Loki shrugged one shoulder.

“If you like. I could use the distraction. It itches.”

“That’s what I like. Being a distraction.” But Bucky didn’t leave. Loki eventually paced over to the chair – the same one he’d occupied last time – and sat down, gesturing at the other. Bucky stayed standing, regarding Loki while Loki regarded him. “How’d you end up here,” Bucky said eventually, breaking the silence.

“For someone I am meant to be helping, you ask a great many questions about me,” Loki said.

“I want to know more about you before I give you any information about my head,” Bucky said. “I’m not any more interested in being a _servant_ than a _weapon._ ”

Loki looked very faintly amused. “Did I not say-”

“That you don’t have the weapon you used, yeah. There’s more than one way to screw up someone’s brain.” Loki’s expression twitched a little oddly.

“You flatter me,” he murmured. Bucky didn’t let his expression twitch. “As to your question – are you asking how I ended up here, a prisoner, here, on Asgard, or here, more existentially?”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that question was sincere or supposed to be obnoxious, but he considered it like it was the former. “The first one,” he said. Loki considered him, and Bucky wondered if he was about to be told a massive lie. Probably should’ve just asked Thor. Still could.

“How much do you know,” Loki said eventually. Bucky shrugged.

“Other than that you tried to conquer the planet a few years back, nothing.”

“Mm.” Loki’s eyes narrowed. “I will not bore you with my entire life story. Suffice it to say that this is a reprieve on a former sentence due to the fact that I undertook certain actions to Asgard’s benefit.”

That was vague and told him almost nothing. “What does that mean,” Bucky asked bluntly, not particularly caring if he sounded stupid.

Loki gave him a flat look. “It means the particulars are none of your business.”

“Huh,” Bucky said. Interesting, he thought, that Loki was so open about brainwashing people and got cagey around something that had apparently been enough to get a reduced sentence. If one that seemed like a pretty shit deal, if it meant not even being able to defend yourself. He looked at Loki out of one eye. “I bet Thor would tell me if I asked him.”

Loki’s nostrils flared. “Most likely.”

“Figure you’d rather give me your version than his.”

Loki’s shoulders twitched. “How is this relevant?”

“Now it’s relevant cause you don’t want to tell me,” Bucky said frankly. “Call me paranoid.”

Loki’s lips pressed together. After a long moment, he nearly spat, “during the Dark Elf invasion I assisted Thor in tracking Malekith.” Bucky waited, but Loki did not continue. He almost snorted.

“That’s all?” He said. Loki’s expression spasmed but he didn’t say anything. Bucky shook his head. “Doesn’t seem like much for you to be so twitchy about saying.”

“Perhaps I would just like to hold what scraps of privacy remain to me,” Loki said, his eyes sharp and jaw tight. So Bucky had pissed him off. Didn’t seem hard to do. He just shrugged, and Loki’s eyes narrowed further. “Is that sufficient? May I perhaps proceed to the matter of _why you are actually here_?” Bucky just shrugged again, and Loki exhaled through his nose.

“If you had your magic,” Bucky asked suddenly, “could you fix me?”

Loki looked at him sharply. “It is a moot point, as I do not.”

“I didn’t ask if you would. Just if it would be possible.” 

“Perhaps,” Loki said after a pause. “I cannot say for sure. It is not something I have attempted before. Based on what I can tell, I know the theory, but I would need to actually touch your mind to be certain – something I am sure you would be hasty to agree to,” he said, acidly sardonic. Bucky looked at his shiny new metal arm and flexed the fingers. Would it be worth taking that risk if he knew it meant he wouldn’t be anyone’s weapon again?

Maybe, maybe not. Like Loki’d said, though, the point was moot.

“How are you supposed to help me if you don’t even know for sure what’s going on,” Bucky said bluntly. Loki scoffed.

“Help, not cure. And it would certainly be easier to do so if you would were to explain to me what I am meant to be helping _with._ ”

“I don’t trust you,” Bucky said plainly.

“Fortunate, then, that you do not need to.” Loki sounded faintly exasperated. “I am hardly going to sell your secrets to anyone on Asgard, seeing as there would be no benefit to me and I do not like anyone here enough to do it out of altruism. I can hardly use any knowledge against you, as I am watched near constantly, nearly powerless, and would not have any use for a mortal soldier.”

Bucky stared at Loki for a long moment, then sat down. “And if you did _have use_ for me,” he said eventually. Loki shrugged.

“I am not going to pretend to be better than I am.” Bucky examined Loki’s face, but once again he couldn’t get a good read on it.

This was what he was here for, Bucky reminded himself grimly. _Not a lot of other options, other than cryo._

“Right,” Bucky said finally. “The deal is that HYDRA – you know about HYDRA?”

“Pretend I do,” Loki said. “Go on.”

“They worked it out so there’s a sequence of words that hijacks my brain and makes me do what they want,” Bucky said. Simple, matter of fact. Not letting himself flinch. Not letting himself think _ready to comply_ or the wrenching feeling and panic when he’d realized what Zemo was going to do. He fixed his eyes over Loki’s shoulder, carefully not holding his breath.

“Ah,” Loki said. He sounded thoughtful. “One specific sequence of words? Do they need to be spoken in a particular order?”

Bucky jerked his head in a nod, then realized that might be unclear. “One activation sequence, yeah. I don’t know about the order. But I think probably.”

“And when this happens? What do you remember?”

Bucky flexed the metal fingers again. Seemed safer than grabbing onto something like he wanted to. “Flashes. Bits and pieces, sometimes more, sometimes less. Varies.”

“Hmm.” Bucky glanced at Loki’s face, finally, and found that he was frowning. He drummed his fingers on the table, glancing upward and then back at Bucky. “It does sound similar to some cases I believe I remember reading about. I will have to double check to be sure, but…if that is the case, you are in luck. Even those with no magical talent can build some resistance against that sort of attack. Less effective, of course, but…” Loki shrugged. “It is, I imagine, better than nothing. And might buy you time to kill your attacker before they finish speaking.”

Bucky blinked. He hadn’t expected much, certainly not that direct of an answer. Or that _helpful_ of one, even if it was far from a guarantee. It sounded like an actual idea, anyway, something Bucky could _do_ rather than just waiting for someone to pick up that damn red book and use it. Him. “That simple,” he said cautiously.

“It is not,” Loki said. “Such things take discipline and time. Particularly for those with no training. But possible.” He sounded vaguely pleased, and Bucky stared at him, a thank you on the tip of his tongue that he swallowed back, suddenly and inexplicably wary.

“Are you really just doing this because you’re bored?” He demanded. “That’s the only reason?”

The slight pleased expression vanished as Loki’s eyes cut to Bucky. “You do not believe it? Why not? Insufficiently nefarious?”

 _Yes,_ Bucky thought, but he could recognize the edge in Loki’s voice as a warning sign. “Just seems like a lot of trouble just to escape boredom,” he said.

Loki made a sort of _ha_ noise in the back of his throat. “There is nothing _just_ about boredom, James Buchanan Barnes. Too much quiet breeds madness.” His sharp smile certainly looked a little mad. Bucky’s spine prickled and he dropped it.

“Fine,” he said. “If you say so.”

“Now go,” Loki said, with a dismissive little flick of his wrist. “I have research to do.”

Bucky thought about picking a fight over Loki ordering him around, but decided it wasn’t worth it. He got up, glancing at the mark on Loki’s face again. It had to hurt, but he hadn’t noticed so much as a wince. Bucky wondered if that was for his benefit. “Lucky he missed your eye,” he said. Loki barked a laugh.

“Not for lack of trying,” he said, and lifted his left hand. Bucky could see the mark on the back and could reconstruct the image: knife flashing for Loki’s eye, hand came up to block it. The blade hit bone and skittered off, slicing open the cheek instead. The clarity of the image made something in Bucky’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Even luckier,” he intoned. Loki smiled thinly as Bucky let himself out.

* * *

Thor knocked almost gingerly on the door of Bucky’s guest rooms – though if these were just the guest rooms, he had to wonder what the royal suites looked like. Far cry from underground basements or overcrowded tenements.

“I am sorry I could not come by sooner,” Thor said. “I know I have been remiss in my duties as host.”

Bucky shrugged. “You’re king, right? Figure you have things to do. I don’t need a – minder.” He’d almost said _handler._ He didn’t need one of those either. Thor frowned.

“Regent,” he corrected. Bucky wasn’t sure he got the difference, but decided not to ask. Thor looked stressed enough as it was. “And my duties include ensuring that guests from other Realms are well-treated.” Thor sighed. “But you are right. I am…there is so much to do.” He paused. “But you are…well?”

Transparent, the question he was really asking. Bucky decided to ignore it. “Not any worse,” he said, with maybe a trace of gallows humor that Thor didn’t seem to catch.

“I am…glad to hear that.” Thor cleared his throat. “Heimdall informed me that you continue to meet with Loki.”

Bucky didn’t let himself tense up. “Couple times, yeah.”

“And that has been…he has not caused you trouble?”

“Nope,” Bucky said. “Other than sometimes feeling like trying to get anything out of him is like banging my head against a brick wall. But he hasn’t tried any _funny business,_ if that’s what you mean.” He considered saying _did you know someone sliced up his face_ but decided Thor had to know. That seemed like the kind of thing someone would mention. Thor grimaced.

“So he has not been helpful at all,” he said, sounding disappointed. Bucky glanced down at his hand – the normal one – tugging at a loose thread on his jeans. He let himself keep doing it.

“I didn’t say that.” Bucky paused, thinking about it, and then glanced at Thor. “Seems to think he might have an idea for something that might help.

Thor’s expression lit up. “Truly?” Bucky shrugged one shoulder. “That is – very good news,” Thor said, and Bucky had the feeling his obvious pleasure was only maybe a quarter on his behalf. It occurred to Bucky that it seemed like it’d be easy for Loki to convince Thor he’d reformed and could be released, and it seemed odd he hadn’t tried. Too many outside enemies? Maybe that was something a regent couldn’t do?

Didn’t matter, he decided.

“If you’re not going to be around to play tour guide, maybe you should tell me where I should go,” Bucky said, not really acknowledging Thor’s excitement. “I don’t want to wander into anywhere I’m not supposed to be.”

“You are a royal guest,” Thor said promptly. “Anywhere you wish to go you are welcome. Though I do recommend not entering private chambers without permission,” he added with a smile. Bucky found one to answer him with, which apparently passed muster. “But if I had to recommend places for you to go…around the palace there are the gardens. If you are inclined there are sparring yards, though perhaps…that would not be the best idea.”

“Probably not,” Bucky agreed.

“There is a gallery of trophies from great hunts,” Thor said, sounding like he was trying to dredge up tourist sites. “The library, I suppose, if that interests you…”

“I can just look around,” Bucky said. He wondered if the Aesir used punching bags. “Long as I don’t get in trouble.”

“You will not,” Thor assured him with confidence. “Even if it would not be dishonorable to bother a guest, none would dare interfere with a personal friend of mine.”

 _Guess that doesn’t extend to your brother,_ Bucky thought, a little wryly. Though it seemed entirely possible, based on what he’d seen, that Loki wouldn’t accept a bucket of water from Thor if he was on fire.

Duty called Thor away shortly after, leaving Bucky to his own devices. After some consideration, he went looking for an exit to the outdoors, craving some fresh air. And fresh air on Asgard _was_ that – so sharp and clear Bucky could almost taste it. He startled something like a peacock on one of the big courtyards, strolling over to the fountain and looking up at the centerpiece: a man holding an enormous axe in one hand, the other around the neck of a big snake thing, throttling it as water spilled from its mouth.

“Commissioned in honor of Buri’s victory over the fire-drake army of Muspellheim’s then-lord, Hrímnir,” came a smooth voice from behind him. Bucky tensed, not whirling around but cold tingling down his spine. “Quite glorious. It is said the field of battle smoldered for weeks.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” Bucky said flatly.

“Was I sneaking?” Loki’s voice was airy, careless, as he drew up alongside Bucky. “I did not intend to.”

 _Bullshit,_ Bucky thought, but he turned around, trying not to show his alarm and surprise. “Didn’t know you got to be out of your box,” he said. Loki smiled thinly.

“So I do.” Bucky glanced around, but other than the two of them the courtyard was empty. Loki’s sleeves were long enough that they masked the bracelets, though he had to be sweltering in the sun.

“Where’s your honor guard?” He asked.

“Called away. I earned back my privacy for…good behavior.” Loki spoke the last two words with a faint, vaguely disdainful irony, like he found the idea of _good behavior_ distasteful. Bucky didn’t let his shoulders creep up.

“Good for you. Looks like your pretty face didn’t scar,” Bucky said, his eyes tracking the smooth, unmarked patch of skin where there’d been a livid wound last time.

“If that is meant to be a backhanded compliment I accept it,” Loki said almost lightly. He seemed less tense out here, in general, and Bucky wondered if that was because he’d surprised Bucky and that gave him the illusion of power. Rather than Bucky coming into his space, he was the one who entered Bucky’s.

The thought made his mouth taste sour. “I was just leaving,” he muttered.

“Ah, come,” Loki called out. “There is no need to be rude. I am not going to bite you. It would be rather counterproductive to my own efforts, would it not? Why would I sabotage my own work?”

“I don’t claim to know why you do anything,” Bucky said, not quite turning around. “I’m not that crazy.”

He caught a very slight twitch out of the corner of his eye. “Of course not,” Loki said, his voice suddenly brittle. “You, pure of heart, could not possibly hope to discern the mind of such a perverse villain as I.”

Bucky did turn at that, just to level Loki with a flat stare. “Yeah,” he drawled at length. “That’s exactly it.”

Loki’s lips twisted and Bucky tensed, readying himself for an attack, verbal or otherwise, but after a moment Loki looked away, plainly frustrated and upset but not about to lash out. Bucky was almost disappointed. Another part of him was satisfied that Loki’s relative confidence was gone.

 _I’m not,_ he thought about saying. _Pure of heart. Never really was and certainly not now._ He didn’t.

“I found the materials I was looking for,” Loki said after a long silence, voice curt. “I was correct. There are certain means of at least partially blocking spells similar to the sort of thing you described. They cannot counteract what exists but may be able to prevent further usage of the existing curse.”

Bucky looked at him sharply. Loki’s eyes were fixed on the fountain, though, his fingers laced together behind his back. “May be able to?” He asked.

“Nothing is certain. Least of all in magic, and you have none of your own. You will be relying on the ambient forces around you to respond to your will.” Loki shrugged. “’May’ is the best I can do.”

Bucky stared at Loki’s back, eyes narrowed. The mood had changed so suddenly he almost had whiplash, and he couldn’t tell if Loki was genuinely that mercurial (possible) or if one or the other was a lie.

“ _Relying on the ambient forces,_ ” he echoed slowly. “What does that mean?”

“That would require a somewhat extensive lesson in magical theory,” Loki said, but rather than sounding patronizing he just sounded tired. “You will forgive me if I do not feel like giving it.”

“I’d think you’d _love_ to show off,” Bucky said. Loki’s gaze was fixed on the snake, the mouth spewing water instead of blood.

“For that to be effective would require a certain understanding of what I was talking about,” Loki said, voice distant. Bucky stared at him, tempted to just throw up his hands and walk away.

“What,” he said instead. “Are you that offended that I called you crazy?”

Loki stiffened. “For me to take offense your opinion would have to mean something to me,” he said. Bucky snorted.

“Obviously it does,” he said, “I didn’t know you were going to be so touchy about it.”

Loki made a sort of _tch_ noise and turned to him. “Oh? As you reacted with perfect equanimity when I told you that this HYDRA had maimed your mind.” Bucky twitched, and Loki’s lips twisted. “Like so. No one _enjoys_ hearing themselves described as aberrant. Wrong.” His lips curved in a mirthless smile. “Ruined.”

Bucky felt an odd lurch: unwanted kinship, almost. He said nothing, and Loki glanced away. “But no matter. I am not looking for _friends._ ”

“Good thing,” Bucky said. “You’d be doing a shit job at it.”

Loki cut him a sharp look and then huffed a nearly soundless laugh. “Indeed. I seem to have lost the skill, if ever I had it.” His faintly self-deprecating smile made Bucky’s lips twitch, and he looked away before they could do more than that.

“So you get to wander wherever you want?” Bucky asked.

“Not _wherever,_ ” Loki said. “The palace grounds, however, I may explore as I wish.” House arrest, Bucky thought. Seemed pretty cushy for someone who’d done what Loki had. Whatever he’d done to help Asgard must’ve been something. Or else Thor was just a sucker. He supposed that he shouldn’t be that surprised, though – there was no bed in the room he’d been meeting Loki in, and no one had ever specifically _said_ he was imprisoned. He’d just…assumed. “Of course,” Loki noted dryly, “I tend to keep my distance from well-populated areas. And I am hardly going to attend any feasts in the near future. If ever.” Bucky glanced at him, and Loki smiled narrowly. “Aesir tempers tend to run hot, and they might conveniently forget that I am protected by the king until I was already dead.”

Bucky shifted. “Why do they hate you so much?” He asked.

“Why not?” Loki asked, thin smile stretching, though it didn’t touch his eyes at all. “I dishonored Asgard’s name. Deceived them into accepting my rule. Committed treason, ah…three times, at last count. Tried to kill Thor. I am sure some even hold me responsible for the All-Father’s long sleep.” Loki shrugged. “Choose one, choose all. Everyone does love a scapegoat.” He glanced sidelong at Bucky. “I suspect you might be familiar with that. What little I know of your situation – if it were not for Captain Rogers’ protection, your people would already have ripped you to shreds.”

Bucky’s hackles went up. Some of it must have shown on his face, because Loki snorted. “Oh, do not think I am saying that we are the same. I know better than that.”

He didn’t like that either, though. “What you said,” he said roughly. “I’m not. _Pure of heart._ ”

Loki’s smile turned mocking. “That is what the pure of heart always say.”

Bucky struggled with finding a way to respond to that, but he couldn’t think of anything other than, “you don’t know anything about me.” Loki scoffed again, quietly.

The breeze carried the sound of laughter. Loki straightened, stiffening, and Bucky watched everything about him shift slightly. The set of his shoulders, the way he arranged his face, posture and bearing. A third transformation in a short conversation. “And there is my cue,” Loki said, voice once again cool and elegant, purged of feeling. “I should not want to besmirch your good name.”

Bucky almost wanted to tell him to stay, just so he could see what Loki’d be like with other people, not Thor or Bucky. He was starting to think Loki had a different mask for every person he talked to. Maybe even for every conversation. He wondered if any of them were real, but that seemed like a rabbit hole he didn’t want to fall down.

“Sure,” he said. “See you soon.” The nicety slipped out without his thinking about it, and Loki gave him a startled look, like Bucky had told him he was _looking forward to it_ or something more expressive.

“I suppose so,” he said after a moment, and then retreated down one of the paths. Bucky watched him go, noting how smoothly he moved. Bucky almost wished he’d seen him fight. Seemed like it’d be something to watch.

* * *

Bucky could feel something off as he reached for the handle, and pulled his hand back. He hesitated only a split second before letting himself in. “I told you already,” he heard Loki say as soon as the door was open. His voice was raised. “It is reassuring that your games remain as dull as ever. How _is_ that sister of yours?” Bucky moved just enough that he could see Loki and his companion: a woman, a little on the short side for the Aesir, her hair silky and pale, almost white blond. He hoped to listen longer, maybe find out what _games_ Loki meant, but Loki’s eyes flicked to him and the woman followed his gaze and turned.

A smile bloomed on her round and pretty face. “Why, Loki. You did not say you were entertaining guests.”

Bucky’s skin crawled as her eyes swept over him. He could feel her assessing gaze, liking what she saw, and there was nothing necessarily new about _that_ but something about the hunger he could sense underneath made him want to hide.

“I am not,” Loki said. His voice was snappish, clipped, and curiously enough he moved to stand between Bucky and the woman. “You should begone, Amora. I have no further words for you.”

Amora sidestepped Loki, her eyes fixed on Bucky as she said, “ah, but I might have words for you.” She snapped her fingers and vanished. Loki stayed very still for a moment, then stalked over to a pitcher of water and poured himself a glass, muttering under his breath.

“Friend of yours?” Bucky said neutrally.

“No,” Loki said flatly. “Almost never.”

Bucky didn’t move. “What did she want?”

“What does she ever want,” Loki said. He sounded irritable. “Men and power. The one usually to gain the other.” He wrinkled his nose. “I thought she was still in Vanaheim.”

“She does magic too. Like you.”

Loki looked offended. “Not like me.” His expression soured, though, and he added, “for one, she can actually _use_ her magic, whereas I – but no. She is not as strong or as skilled.”

“Or as modest.” Bucky said. Loki glanced at him but seemed to shake it off. He was still plainly agitated, though, setting the glass down and hand flexing open and closed. Bucky crossed slowly to the chair and dropped into it.

“I would appreciate if you would not tell Thor that she was here,” Loki said abruptly. Bucky tensed, but the only thing Loki added was a muttered, “I wonder if he knows she is back.”

“Why not,” Bucky said. “You saying that seems like a good reason for me to tell him.”

Loki twitched one shoulder. “You heard. I am not interested in what she is peddling. He would not believe that, and I cannot…” Loki trailed off.

“If I’m gonna lie for you I’d better know why,” Bucky said. Loki’s lips pressed together and his nostrils flared, but Bucky knew he had him. Apparently Loki _really_ didn’t want Thor to know about this Amora person visiting him. That was interesting.

“He will feel it is necessary to put further restrictions on me,” Loki said eventually, sounding like the words were being dragged out of his mouth hand over hand. “Fully suppressing my magic, for instance.”

Bucky snorted. “So what?” He said. “Real bummer, not being able to access your special powers.”

Loki jerked like Bucky had said something genuinely nasty rather than a little snide, and then turned away, his expression tight. “Oh, yes,” he said. “It is as simple as that. Like separating you from your weapons.” He sounded intensely bitter, and Bucky sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s not what it’s like?”

Loki’s nostrils flared. “No.”

Bucky waited, but Loki stayed silent. “Then what is it like,” he prompted. Loki’s mouth spasmed.

“Do you remember losing your arm?” He said after a long silence. “Not recently. The one you were born with, of flesh and bone. Do you remember?”

Bucky wondered, sometimes. Flashes of _pain_ and _cold_ and vague impressions, but nothing clear. He stayed motionless, and Loki looked away.

“Imagine it, then. Something that is a part of you, that you no longer even think of – being wrenched away. It is like that. Magic is not just a tool or a weapon. It is part of what I _am._ ” Loki twitched and turned away, stalking toward one of the windows. “Studies suggest that continuous thaumaturgical suppression can lead to severe complications after as little as ten years. Even setting that aside, subjects tend to die sooner, sometimes by a century or more.” Loki twisted one of the bracelets, though his voice didn’t change, like he was reciting from a textbook. “Of course, these numbers may be unreliable due to the fact that roughly 60% of affected magi went mad, and 40% killed themselves.”

Bucky stared. His first thought was _you’re lying_ but that didn’t quite ring true. “You had that memorized?” He said, to buy time. Loki laughed humorlessly.

“I looked it up,” he said. “The last time I was allowed in the library – escorted, of course. I like to plan for worst case scenarios.”

“Seems morbid,” Bucky said after a silence.

“It probably is,” Loki said lightly, turning, face arranged into a pleasant mask. “But that is why I would rather you not mention Amora’s visit to Thor. Does that satisfy you?”

Bucky considered, keeping a flat stare on Loki. Of course he might be lying, making up all of that in a play for sympathy. His instincts said not, though. Not to mention it would probably cut off all contact with Loki and any help he could offer.

“Right,” he said finally. “I won’t say anything.”

There was that look of surprise again. This time Bucky crossed his arms and said, “don’t know why you look so surprised.”

Loki’s expression went blank in the blink of an eye. “I would not expect you to accede so readily.”

“I get the impression you don’t expect much from people in general,” Bucky said, carefully neutral. This time when Loki looked at him it was something different. Assessing, maybe. Bucky tensed.

“No, I do not,” Loki said eventually. “I do not imagine you are a very trusting sort yourself.”

“Not really, no.” Loki’s lips twitched like he found something about Bucky’s response amusing, but if he did he didn’t share it.

“Shall we, then?” He said instead. Bucky tried not to tense, placing his palms on his thighs, not sure what he was readying himself for.

“How does this work,” he asked warily. Loki studied him for a moment before speaking.

“Magic is, to put it _unbearably_ simply, the ability to manipulate the threads of energy that underlie and surround all things. Through a certain…oh, call it a trick of will, _seiðmadur –_ mages – are able to work those threads. Most use at least some minor mental shielding to protect from psychic assault or invasion.”

“That include you?” Bucky asked. “Is that still there, if you can’t do magic?”

Loki smiled thinly. “Fortunately for me, it remains. I tied the spell tightly enough to my very being a long time ago that it is…not an easy thing to overcome.” For a moment something flickered across Loki’s face, but it was gone before Bucky could pin down what it had been or what it might mean. “Most beings, even those without an ounce of magecraft, also have some rudimentary form of protection. Without that, you would be vulnerable to every twist and current of energy. Your mind would dissolve under the onslaught.” Bucky twitched.

“So what HYDRA did,” he said slowly.

“Is irrelevant,” Loki interrupted. “I cannot remove the damage already done without use of magic – which I highly doubt would be granted, even if you were to request it, which I doubt you would be inclined to do.”

“Got that right,” Bucky muttered, resisting the urge to lean away like Loki might try to get in his head then and there.

“The important part,” Loki went on as though Bucky hadn’t spoken, “is the trigger words. I do not know how they function, precisely, but the analogous magic is…rather than a continuous imposition of one person’s will over another, rather it is somewhat like…hm. If your mind is a walled city, those words are the bribe convincing the guard to open the gate.”

“So I need to seal the gate,” Bucky said. Loki seemed pleased.

“Indeed. Magic would be the simplest solution. But it is also possible, to a limited extent, for those without magic to manipulate the world in minor ways. Some more easily than others. It takes no small amount of focus and determination, and I promise nothing, but…”

 _But it might give me a fighting chance,_ Bucky thought, remembering banging against the wall of the cage, desperately trying to break out and stop what was happening, but it felt like trying to stop a train by standing in front of it, just watching it hurtle towards him.

He realized that Loki was looking at him expectantly, expression dimmed a little from smug pride to something faintly uncertain. Bucky shook himself. He didn’t have other options. And if this could work, if Loki wasn’t just stringing him along, if…

The alternative was waiting in Wakanda. T’Challa’s freezer box might be more comfortable than HYDRA’s, but a freezer box was still a freezer box.

“All right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll try this.”

* * *

It turned out that “manipulating energy with his will” mostly looked like “meditation.” Which was…Bucky could hold still just fine, he’d done plenty of that, you didn’t get to be a good sniper by being fidgety. But clearing his mind and focusing the way Loki kept telling him to…wasn’t happening.

He left frustrated and in a bad mood. He was pretty sure Loki was about the same, based on how snippy he’d gotten toward the end. Bucky’d excused himself by pleading a headache, and he thought Loki might’ve almost been relieved. It was hard to say if he’d actually gotten anywhere. He had a feeling he hadn’t.

Finding out there was a feast for some kind of celebration or another didn’t help his mood any. Asgard’s food was good, but the loud talking and press of people kicked all his instincts into overdrive. The first one, some Aesir warrior clapped him on the back and Bucky almost put a fork in the back of his hand.  Next time he was worried it wouldn’t be an ‘almost.’ But hell, he didn’t want to be _rude._

So he showed up. It was boisterous, it was crowded, and his nerves were already stretched to the breaking point when someone got the bright idea to ask him for war stories. They wanted to know about his _miraculous return from the dead_ and _valiant deeds in battles past._

Anger hot and thick like blood surged up in his throat, and he had the urge to stand up and say _you want to know about my valiant deeds, how about I tell you about the time I beat an old friend to death, or almost murdered my best friend, or any of the hundreds of bodies I’ve left in my wake-_

Bucky very carefully didn’t look at Thor. He didn’t know _what_ he’d said, but he must have said something. Enough. He stayed silent, staring at his still half-full plate, until the conversation turned. Then he stood up and walked out.

For a while he just walked, following the turns of hallways without paying too much attention. When he stopped, finally, he closed his eyes and tried to remember how Loki had explained this. _Clear your thoughts. But not scouring them clean like your mind is a dirty bowl. The better your clarity of focus, the sharper your will._ He ignored the second bit and just focused on trying to settle, reaching something like equilibrium. Maybe as close as he could get.

Bucky squared his shoulders, oriented himself, and started making his way back toward where he thought the guest rooms probably were. He missed Earth, suddenly. And Steve. With the anger ebbing, now there was just a lump in his throat too big to swallow.

It wasn’t fair. None of this. Why couldn’t they just-

“—skulking around the dining hall, treasonous wretch-“

Bucky turned the corner, realizing what he’d walked into a moment too late. Standing with his back to Bucky was one man, who looked like a brawler in nicer clothes, and cornered in a short hallway like an animal at bay was Loki. His eyes flicked to Bucky and then away without so much as a pause for recognition, as if Bucky was so unimportant he didn’t even register.

“I had no intention of interrupting the celebrations,” Loki said. “The kitchens are down this hallway, and I _am_ still permitted-“

“Still your lying tongue,” The brawler-Aesir said, voice rising precipitously. “I will teach you to…who are you?”

He’d hesitated too long. _Stupid,_ Bucky thought, not sure why he hadn’t just turned and walked the other way straight off. Something about someone backed against a wall with no chance in hell of fighting back. ( _Don’t make that comparison._ )

“Passing through,” Bucky said, though he could feel himself tensing, body responding to the feeling of imminent violence.

“No, wait. You,” the man said, turning more fully toward Bucky with a nasty smile that made Bucky’s knuckles itch. “You’re – you’re Thor’s mortal guest, aren’t you? Come, help me deal with this little snake.” He lunged for Loki, who skittered back. Bucky could see his eyes darting, looking for exits, but he’d been pretty effectively boxed in. His metal fingers twitched. “Don’t you want a go at him for what he did to your world?”

Loki’s eyes flicked to him and Bucky’s stomach lurched at the hunted animal look in them. He remembered what Loki’d said about the Aesir forgetting they couldn’t legally kill him until after the fact. _Walk away,_ urged a quiet voice at the back of his brain. _Let him die. God knows he deserves it._

“Doesn’t seem like a very interesting fight,” he said blandly. “When one person can’t fight back.”

The man frowned at him like Bucky was speaking a different language. “It’s not a fight,” he said. “Your opponent needs to have honor for that. This is just-“ He broke off with a shout when Loki went for the slender gap between him and the wall. Loki ducked the first wild punch, sliding around it with unexpected grace, and for a half second it looked like he might be able to slip away.

Then the Aesir caught him by the hair and yanked him back, fist driving into his kidneys. Loki let out a pained bark and Bucky jerked. _Walk away walk away-_

His metal hand caught the guy’s arm before he could repeat the move, and apparently it was enough of a surprise that he actually stopped, head turning to stare at Bucky. “I think you’re done here,” Bucky said. Loki’s breathing had a harsh edge on it. The Aesir let go of Loki’s hair slowly and Bucky let go of his wrist, stepping back as Loki staggered, catching himself on the wall.

Except then surprise started to morph into anger. _Oh, shit,_ Bucky thought. Where the hell were the guards? Probably couldn’t hear over the noise of the feast. “You’d dare interfere in the affairs of your betters, mortal?” he said, puffing up. “I shall chastise _you_ first, and then deal with the snake.”

He went for Bucky, and if his movement was clearly slowed, he was still faster than Bucky’d expected. Instinct kicked in and he ducked out of the way, twisting to slam his elbow – the metal one – into the center of his back. It should have at least knocked him down, but the Aesir warrior just grunted and whirled around, hardly seeming affected. He didn’t have time to look for an escape route before the man went for him again. The thought went through Bucky’s mind as he dodged a fist aimed at his face that Loki had probably bolted by now, and he was stuck here, about to get his ass kicked because he could feel himself tiring-

His head slammed into the wall what felt like hard enough to crack masonry, and bounced. There were fingers wrapped around his throat not quite tight enough to strangle, and he could see a meaty fist cocked and aimed at his face. It occurred to Bucky that this must’ve been what it felt like to be Steve, back in the day.

The fist stopped mid-punch. Even more surprisingly, someone yanked the Aesir off Bucky and flipped him neatly onto his back.

Releasing him and staring in what looked like perfect startlement was Loki, who looked from Bucky to the Aesir getting up. _You’re not supposed to be able to,_ he thought, but the man was back on his feet and Bucky saw Loki move to block only to stop mid-motion, jerking to a halt like he’d hit the end of a rope. One of those big, heavy fists hit him in the solar plexus. Bucky shoved Loki out of the way and caught the next punch in his metal hand. He glanced toward Loki, who still looked stunned, but as Bucky’s eyes met Loki’s his expression shifted toward resolve.

Some communication passed between them, wordless, and it just – clicked.

Bucky remembered thinking that it’d be something to see Loki fight, and he wasn’t wrong: even half hobbled by being unable to react unless, it seemed, to defend someone else, he was still graceful, fast, and more importantly, adaptable. He learned Bucky’s moves and style fast and how to react to them, effectively keeping their opponent off balance, playing Bucky’s defense so he could be offense. There was a kind of glee that thrilled down Bucky’s spine, realizing how seamlessly Loki shifted to work with him, even above the adrenaline making his heart race.

And then, almost too fast, it was over. The Aesir went down and didn’t get up again, and Loki stared at him from the other side of his unconscious body, his eyes wide and breathing hard. His expression, briefly unguarded, flickered between confusion, surprise, and what looked like a desire to smile. Bucky could feel the knuckles on his flesh and blood hand starting to bruise.

“Well, that was fun,” Bucky said dryly. Loki made a noise like a laugh he tried to cut off before it could emerge.

“You didn’t leave,” he said. A vague uncomfortable feeling rose in Bucky’s stomach and he twitched one shoulder up and down.

“Or join? Guess not. You seem surprised.”

“Were our positions reversed, wouldn’t you be?”

“Maybe,” Bucky said, “but I’m not you.” He almost regretted saying it, for just a brief moment, when Loki seemed to flinch and then looked away, expression closing off.

“To the relief of many, I am sure,” he murmured, something faintly caustic in his voice. “I should-”

“Halt! In the name of the Allfather!” Loki’s eyes closed for just a moment and Bucky thought _oh, there’s the guard_ as five or six of them came trotting around the corner. Bucky saw the one in the lead look from Loki to Bucky to the man on the ground between them, and his voice rose further. “Show your hands, Loki, and hold your place.”

Bucky heard Loki sigh, eyes still closed, and he raised his hands. Bucky took a step back, tension rising as the leader’s eyes went to him. “Are you well, Lord Barnes?” He asked more quietly, and Bucky blinked.

“Fine,” he said, though in truth his knuckles were aching and he would bet there was going to be bruising. Asgardians were damned strong. The guard nodded, then gestured to one of his fellows, who took Loki’s raised wrists in hand and pulled them behind his back, shoving him to his knees. Loki’s jaw tightened but he didn’t fight.

“I am sorry that our reaching you took so long,” the lead guard said apologetically. “Only glad that we were not too late.” One of the others crouched down next to their unconscious friend, and pronounced that he was, indeed, breathing but senseless.

Bucky blinked stupidly, confused, but the guard had already turned toward Loki, his face hardening. “As for _you…_ you will be placed in a cell until such time as King Thor shall deal with you. I know not how you managed to circumvent the binding, but this time I doubt he will show you mercy.” Loki said nothing, and didn’t look at Bucky again, head dropping forward so his expression was hidden.

“He was defending me,” Bucky said. He didn’t realize until the words were out of his mouth that he was going to say them, but then they were out and the entire group of guards was staring at him. Bucky tried not to hunch his shoulders, the instinct to hide and stay out of sight rearing its head. “That’s what happened,” he said, a little lamely. “That guy-” He gestured to the bastard on the floor, “attacked me. Loki pulled him off. I’m the one who decked him.” He made himself shrug. “You missed a lot, I guess.”

“Is this true?” The lead guard said to Loki, after a long moment of simply staring at Bucky. Loki said nothing, eyes still fixed on the floor, and Bucky felt a surge of exasperation.

“Any answer I give you might easily deem a lie,” Loki said at length. His voice sounded rough, but Bucky couldn’t decide what with.

“Are you saying I might be lying?” Bucky said. It wasn’t that hard to sound offended, even if a part of him couldn’t believe he was talking, kept thinking _what are you doing, screw him,_ but now that just sounded petty. Selfish. Loki could’ve bolted when his attacker was busy with Bucky, and he hadn’t. The surprise on his face suggested that he hadn’t even known it would work, had just acted on instinct or reflex, so it hadn’t just been calculated to get Bucky’s favor – not, as Loki himself had pointed out, that he had anything to gain from that.

“No,” the guard said hastily. “No, I do not mean to accuse…but he may have deceived you.”

Bucky snorted. “So not lying, just stupid.” The guard wavered. Bucky gestured at the still unconscious Aesir. “I’m telling you what happened. Check with him when he wakes up if you want.” He doubted the man would want to own up to the fact that he’d been trying to kill Loki to begin with, and based on the fact that no one seemed very concerned about his unconsciousness, he doubted his word would mean much anyway. “And check with your sorcerers about that binding,” he added, “I bet you’ll find there’s a loophole for defending other people.” A loophole apparently no one had mentioned to Loki.

The guard looked from Bucky to Loki and back again. Loki was very still, looking as though he scarcely breathed. Bucky waited.

“Escort him back to his chambers,” the guard said at length to his companion restraining Loki. “See to it he remains there for the night.” The other man hauled Loki back to his feet, keeping his arms restrained until the leader added, “you can release him.”

Loki rubbed his wrists briefly. His eyes flicked over to Bucky and he struggled to read the expression there. Wariness, he thought, and confusion, and surprise. Bucky dropped his chin just a fraction of an inch in a nod. Loki’s eyes widened and then his face smoothed, perfectly blank. He turned away.

“Hey,” Bucky said, half messing and half because he meant it: “thank you.”

Loki’s head twitched a fraction to the side, like he’d been slapped instead of thanked. For a moment Bucky thought he wouldn’t answer, and thought _fine, you asshole,_ but then he paused.

“You are welcome,” he said, voice a little strange, not turning. “And thank _you._ ”

Bucky frowned at his back, but a moment later he heard the sound of heavy footsteps and Thor burst around the corner, another pair of guards trailing after him. “James,” he said, looking alarmed. “I heard that there was an attack, that Loki-“

“Backed me up,” he said, gesturing at the still unconscious man now being removed. “That guy came at me.”

“Wulfric?” Thor frowned, looking surprised for a moment before it turned to a frown. “He will face my wrath, then. That he would dare lay rough hands on a guest-“ Thor shook himself, seeming to register the other part of what Bucky had said. “Hold. You say Loki – helped you?”

“Helped keep him off me, yeah,” Bucky said. Other Aesir were coming into the hallway now, apparently following their king. He glanced at them nervously. “I guess he can still defend _other_ people.”

Thor’s expression wavered between astonishment and a nearly painful hope. He looked around the hallway. “He is not-“

“Some guards took him away,” Bucky said, gesturing vaguely. “Look, I’m tired, can I…”

“Go,” Thor said quickly. “Go – I am very sorry, my friend. Would you like an escort? I would gladly provide-“

“No,” Bucky said quickly. “No thanks, that’s…I’m good.” He smiled weakly. “I don’t hold it against you, or anything.”

“You are an honorable man,” Thor said, which made Bucky want to flinch, but then he turned aside to talk to one of the guards and Bucky took the chance to slip away. Stories were going to spread about this, he knew; he had to wonder what kind. Would people think he was collaborating with Loki, somehow? Or would he be a victim of treachery from one dishonorable opponent? No way to know, and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

And Loki. What was he supposed to do with Loki?

Wasn’t that just the goddamn question.

He caught himself thinking about how it’d felt, though. How easily they’d fit into each others’ patterns, even with Loki half hobbled by the binding. Almost seamless. Maybe it was just the adrenaline junkie in him, but it’d felt good.

* * *

Whenever Bucky was at loose ends - which was far too much of the time - he found himself playing a game of trying to avoid curious Asgardians who seemed to view him as some kind of intriguing specimen, or maybe a pet. In another life he might’ve been flattered by the attention, especially since “good-looking” seemed to be a universal quality among the Aesir, but now it just made him itch. Felt too much like being a lab rat, he supposed.

He’d tried venturing out, restless and antsy (half expecting the palace guard to come back and interrogate him about the fight, even if it wasn’t like he’d lied) but that hadn’t lasted long. He ended up slinking back to his room, though as soon as he reached for the doorknob some instinct prickled a warning. Wishing he had a weapon - any weapon - for a moment he considered backing away.

No, he thought, and pushed the door open, not immediately moving to go through it.

“Ah - he returns,” came a vaguely familiar female voice, along with a waft of perfume, the smell of which Bucky couldn’t name but seemed to somehow touch some kind of old memory. He twitched, not stepping forward just yet.

“Don’t really like surprise visits,” he said blandly, hoping that the simmering tension wasn’t audible.

“I have received the impression that you do not much like visits in general,” his guest said, and laughed. “It seemed if I wanted to speak with you...I would need to surprise you.” She pulled the door the rest of the way open, and now Bucky knew where he recognized that voice from. He tensed further.

“Amora,” he said. “Right? You were talking to Loki.” She was only a little taller than him, and petite as far as Asgardian women went, but that wasn’t saying much. Still, he didn’t think she was the kind to stick a knife in his kidneys.

That didn’t really make him feel any better.

“So I was,” Amora said, smiling at him as though he’d said something smart. “Regrettably.” She looked like she expected him to smile at that, or maybe laugh. Bucky kept his face stony.

“Uh huh,” he said, and gestured toward the door. “You can go.”

“How ungracious of you,” Amora said, half lowering her eyelids. “You don’t want to talk to me?”

Bucky twitched. No, he thought, but found himself strangely reluctant to say it. “What do you want,” he said instead, voice stiff.

“I cannot simply be intrigued by such a...unique...man as yourself? Only the second mortal to set foot on Asgard in an age, and with such a story to tell.”

Bucky shifted his feet, uncomfortable. “What did you want from Loki?” He asked.

“He didn’t say?” Amora sounded startled, and then laughed, tossing her head. “Of course. No doubt he made it sound as nefarious as possible; Loki has never liked me very much.” Her lips curved in a genuinely amused smile. “I sought to offer some peace by requesting his expertise on a project of mine. He refused. Clearly Loki still considers his pride above all.”

Bucky didn’t believe that. He couldn’t have said why, exactly, just that he didn’t. “Why doesn’t he like you?”

“You have met Loki,” Amora said, still smiling, though Bucky thought he caught something sharp to it. “He is not what one would call easygoing, and I daresay he disliked that there was someone else on Asgard who was his equal in magical ability.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Based on what he knew of Loki, that fit, but he still stayed by the doorway, feeling a little like a stray dog hanging back just outside the porch light. Amora cocked her head.

“But you...why are you so wary? Surely not because of anything _Loki_ said.”

“Maybe because you’re in my room without an invitation,” Bucky said.

Her smile was sweet, almost playful. “Can you blame a woman for determined pursuit? You do not strike me as the kind of man who likes his women passive and demure.”

 _I haven’t ‘liked’ any kind of woman for the last seventy-odd years, as far as I know,_ Bucky thought. The disturbing thought occurred to him that if there was something he didn’t remember…he pictured a mini-him sitting in some HYDRA classroom being busily indoctrinated, and held in a shudder, pushing that away. Nothing he could do about the hypothetical now. “Not really in the mood for any kind of pursuit,” he said, managing a tight smile and moving into the room, trying to keep his distance from her. The step she took toward him was more prowl than anything, for all it made her hips sway.

“Are you certain? I can be very persuasive.”

Bucky swallowed, tensing further. “I’m sure. Seems like a gal like you could do better than some mortal.”

“Oh,” Amora said, her voice lowering. “But you are not _some mortal,_ James Barnes, are you? You have lived well beyond mortal years. You are a warrior of rare strength and skill on your Realm.”

Bucky’s stomach tightened, but he felt frozen, not quite able to move. “What do you know about me,” he said, voice rough. Amora smiled, her eyes lighting, but there was nothing playful in them now.

“Enough to know I want you for my own,” she said, and something about the way she said it made Buccky’s hackles rise even if his heart did a funny _skip-thud_ in his chest. The way Amora looked him over was as good as a caress. “And when you were mine…the gifts I would give you.” She took a step closer, and Bucky stopped breathing for a half second when she reached out, her fingers brushing very daintily over the seam, under his shirt, where flesh and metal joined. “Such beauty.”

Bucky made a strangled sound that was trying to be a laugh. “Haven’t gotten that one before,” he said.

“No,” Amora murmured, her fingers tracing the overlapping plates of metal. “They did not appreciate you.”

A discordant note jangled somewhere in Bucky’s fuzzy thoughts. They. HYDRA. He shied back from her fingers on his arm, shaking his head in an attempt to focus. This close, that perfume, whatever it was, was almost overwhelming.

“I would,” Amora promised. There was a hungry gleam in her striking green eyes. “I would not waste your…talents.”

 _Talents._ Something in her voice reminded him of _soldat_ and of _acquire and extract, no witnesses._ Bucky’s stomach clenched and he brought his hands up and shoved Amora away, rougher than he meant. “No,” he said. “I don’t do that anymore.” He could hear the near desperation in his own voice. ( _Who are you trying to convince, soldier?_ ) Amora’s expression started out startled, then flashed to anger, so near fury that Bucky half expected her to set him on fire.

A moment later her face was perfectly smooth.

“I do not usually tolerate having hands laid on me without permission,” she said, her voice noticeably cooler. “But I will forgive it this once, in allowance to your…Midgardian ignorance.” She took a step back, her chin lifting. “Well. A pity, to be sure.” She turned, movements graceful. “Should you realize your error and reconsider…I might consider accepting.”

“Nice of you,” Bucky said. His heart was still pounding, and he wasn’t quite sure what with. She paused at the door, and for a moment he thought she was going to say something else, but she just swept out. Bucky staggered over to a chair and sat down, dropping his head between his knees and struggling for air. He sucked in shallow breaths until he could take something deeper, gradually slowing them down until he no longer felt like the room was spinning.

He had a feeling he was going to have to watch his back. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d take rejection well.

Suddenly Bucky didn’t want to be here anymore either. He grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on despite the heat, knowing it wouldn’t actually make him less conspicuous here, but it might make him feel better. Glad he had a good memory for directions, he made his way to the royal wing and knocked on the door to Thor’s room, surprised when he heard a muffled response from inside. He might not know Thor well, but he was at least easy to be around. And made a good shield from anyone else who might want to bother him.

Or in case Amora decided to come back.

He tested the door and found it unlocked, stepping inside. Thor looked up from where he was hunched over a desk, frowning at what looked like some kind of legal document, and smiled. “Ah, James Barnes! It is good to see a friend rather than yet another councilor informing me of more matters that need my attention.”

“Bucky,” he corrected, not really expecting Thor to change. Maybe he thought it was too familiar. He tried for a weak smile in return. “If you’re busy…”

“No, no. I have been meaning to speak with you – more than a few words, that is.” Thor sounded rueful. “I am sorry, once again, that I cannot be a better host. Father made this look simple, but in fact…” He sighed, then shook himself. “But I assume you are not here to hear of my burdens. Is all well?” His brow furrowed. “There have not been any further…attacks?”

“No,” Bucky said quickly, though a moment later he thought of Amora. That didn’t…quite count as an attack, though, so he shrugged it off. “No, there haven’t.”

“Good,” Thor said firmly. “I hope we may assume that Wulfric was an oddity, then, in his…animosity.” He paused, glancing at Bucky sidelong, and then added more slowly, “I admit I was…pleased, to hear that Loki helped you.”

“I bet,” Bucky said. He took a seat, trying not to fidget with his hands. “He seemed pretty surprised. Either that he did it or that he could, I don’t know.”

“Perhaps that is better,” Thor said, turning to face Bucky and looking briefly pensive. “If it was not considered, calculated.” Bucky shrugged, not willing to commit to anything on that front, and Thor sighed, looking down. “My apologies. I assume you are not here to listen to me brood on the question of Loki, either.”

“Actually,” Bucky said, surprising himself, “I was, kind of. Wondering. What’s his deal?”

Thor gave him a perfectly astonished look. Bucky wanted to laugh, realizing how much it looked like the expression that had been on _Loki’s_ face when Bucky stood up for him. “What do you mean,” Thor said after a moment, both tone and expression turning cautious. Bucky shrugged.

“I just. It seems like there are a lot of holes, is all. I know about the part where he attacked Earth and lost, but not…what happened between then and now.”

Thor inhaled and exhaled. “That is not…entirely my tale to tell,” he said slowly. “Much of it is…I would not speak of it without Loki’s leave.”

And if that was the case, Bucky filled it, he wasn’t likely to hear about it. “Vague outline would be more than I know now,” he said.

Thor nodded, his expression settling into something more somber. “That…I can offer. After Loki was brought to Asgard…my father sentenced him to imprisonment for life. It was…some would say it was lenient, but I do not believe that to be the case.” Thor sounded almost defensive, but Bucky didn’t argue and he relaxed slightly. “The Dark Elves attacked Asgard seeking the Aether, which had possessed Jane, and…and my mother was killed. I freed Loki from his prison so that he could help us – but he…seemed to perish.”

“I guess he didn’t,” Bucky said. He didn’t know who Jane was, but he figured it wasn’t that important.

“No,” Thor said. “He…did not. But I did not know that until…later. He still…has not told me the whole of it, but he was ruling Asgard for a time while the Allfather was in the Odinsleep. I do not know if it was his doing that pushed father into that state, or if he simply took advantage of it, but…” Thor shook his head, frowning.

“So…the reduced sentence,” Bucky said. Thor exhaled.

“He did help me against the Dark Elves. Saved my life. And…even if it was not his right, he ruled Asgard well, and I…do not believe that he harmed our father. If only because he will not say that he did.”

Bucky sat back. “Because if Loki’d done something to your father he’d brag about it.”

“Not…brag, I do not think,” Thor said. “So much as…throw it in my face. As proof that he is no longer my brother and wants nothing of my love, as he claims. That he has not done so – that he only implies, or refuses to say – suggests to me that it is more likely he took advantage of a situation that already existed. Which is perhaps…not much better,” he added quickly.

Bucky shrugged. “Seems to me it’d make a difference.” He found himself wondering, again, why Loki had agreed to help him. ‘Boredom’ was a less and less satisfying answer. He was beginning to think that he didn’t even have a quarter of the pieces that would be necessary to make sense of anything Loki did, though.

“How…how has he been?” Thor asked, and then clarified, “with you.”

“He’s…fine.” Bucky shifted a little. “He seems to be genuinely trying to help.”

Thor brightened, though his smile was only very slight. “That is good. Do you think…will it?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I hope that it does.” Thor sounded utterly sincere. “And if…if there should be any difficulty, with Loki. Please know that you can tell me. Loki is my brother, but I…know that he can be wicked, and devious. And I have considered the possibility that he seeks some personal gain from helping you, though I cannot quite work out what it might be.”

Bucky found himself thinking about Loki catching the punch instead of running for the hills, and that brief exchange of glances and the synergy he’d felt in the way he adapted to Bucky’s fighting style. Thought about Loki’s obsession with image, the seamless way his entire body had changed in the gardens, hearing others coming. The way he’d said _you, pure of heart, could not possibly hope to discern the mind of such a perverse villain as I_. How he’d avoided mentioning why his sentence had been changed. He had a feeling if Loki wanted to play for sympathy, he could. It certainly seemed like Thor was ripe for it.

Could be just pride. That would fit.

Could be something else.

“Me neither,” Bucky said eventually. “But I’d bet it’s complicated.”

Thor laughed, but it sounded rueful. “I do not doubt that.”

* * *

“You are drifting,” Loki said, his voice breaking into Bucky’s thoughts just as he thought he’d managed to clear them. He opened his eyes, frowning.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“No,” Loki said. “You are supposed to have an _empty_ but _focused_ mind. It is not the same thing.” He huffed, a little. “You were a warrior. Do you mean to tell me this was never something you practiced?”

“It isn’t the same,” Bucky said, though even as he said it he thought of the semi-fugue state he could slip into waiting for a target, and if the memory made him feel vaguely nauseous it still seemed like the kind of thing that might be useful. He took a breath and let it out. “How do I even know if it works?”

“You don’t,” Loki said. “Not for certain, until someone tries to attack you. But I can at least tell you if you have the technique right.” Bucky frowned at him, and Loki spread his hands. “If I had the use of my magic, I could test you – but obviously I do not.”

Bucky sat back, a little disgruntled. “So you’re telling me I might be giving myself a headache for nothing.”

“No,” Loki said. “Not nothing.” His expression sobered a little, less annoyed than pensive. “Even if you are not fully able to _do_ anything…as I said before, all you need do is resist for a moment long enough to find a more permanent solution. I imagine you have some skill at those.”

Bucky twitched. “Some,” he said neutrally. His head was starting to hurt, and it must’ve shown on his face because Loki unfolded from where he was sitting on the floor and poured a glass of water, pacing over and holding it out to him. Bucky took it, studying Loki through half closed eyes.

Neither of them had said anything about the fight in the hallway, but Bucky thought there was something slightly different in the way he caught Loki watching him, and he seemed maybe a little less snappish than usual. He’d thought about bringing it up, but decided he didn’t want to be the first one to broach the subject.

Loki moved off, rubbing at the palm of one hand in what Bucky recognized as a nervous gesture. He held still, waiting, getting the feeling Loki was building up to saying something.

“May I ask you a question?” He said abruptly. Bucky raised his eyebrows at Loki’s back.

“Surprised you’re asking,” he said. “Is it about why I said something to the guards? Because I wasn’t lying.”

Loki turned, blinking at him, and then shook his head with a little wave of his hand. “No, I – that was not it. Though I did…appreciate your taking action.” His eyes skated awkwardly away, with that. “No, I wanted to ask about…your experience.”

Bucky stared at Loki, who was looking toward the table and pointedly not at him. “My experience,” he said flatly. “Meaning?” He had a feeling, but he wanted to see how Loki would put it.

Loki’s expression twitched. “When you were under the control of this…Hydra organization,” he said. “What…did it feel like?”

Bucky’s stomach clenched up and his first instinct was either to curl up or to run. Both passed quickly, and he kept his face expressionless. “Why do you want to know?”

Loki turned away so Bucky couldn’t see his face. “I could say it might help me better assess how you could protect yourself.”

“But it wouldn’t,” Bucky finished. Loki said nothing, and Bucky stared at him for a long time. He couldn’t tell if Loki was thinking or just waiting.

“It’s not like I don’t remember,” he said. “I do. But it’s sort of like remembering a dream. One of those dreams where you kind of, somewhere, know you’re dreaming, but can’t wake up.” He cracked his neck. “I didn’t feel like…I don’t know. I wasn’t a passenger along for the ride. It’s not like there was the _real me_ locked down somewhere, trying to get out. I was…” He swallowed, hearing Loki turn, but he looked away, staring at the wall. “Their soldier. Couldn’t think about disobeying. Couldn’t think about much. Everything was – grey, except the mission.” His stomach felt tied up in knots. “I was less a soldier than a weapon, really. Something to pull out and thaw for the big shit Hydra wanted to be sure was done right.”

“Less a transformation than an erasure,” Loki murmured. “You were hardly yourself at all.” Bucky glanced at him, surprised by the quietness of his voice, and found that he looked…pensive. Not horrified, and not, Bucky realized, what he’d really been afraid of: pitying. He stood up from the floor and walked over to one of the chairs, sitting down.

“It was still me,” he said.

“Well,” Loki said, one corner of his mouth twitching up wryly, “that begs a debate on how much one can strip away and still call someone themselves. But I doubt that is a debate you are interested in having.”

“Not really, no.” Bucky’d accepted that, more or less. However little control he’d had over the things he’d done, he’d still done them. He shifted a little. “Honest answer.”

“I seldom give those,” Loki said, though it sounded dry.

“Give this one. Do you actually think what you did is any better than what Hydra did?”

Loki was quiet for a long moment, seeming to actually be considering the question. Bucky couldn’t get a good read on his face, though; couldn’t tell what he might be thinking. “No,” he said at length. “Not substantively.” Bucky felt a little twinge of surprise, though he found when he examined it that it was more about the fact that Loki’d _said_ it. “Different – that I would argue. Better…” He huffed a very soft, wry laugh. “I doubt my former servants would think so, certainly.”

Bucky’s thoughts flashed to Steve’s friend, Barton. No one had named names, but maybe they didn’t have to. “Probably not.”

Loki half smiled, an expression that struck Bucky as faintly melancholy. “You did not.”

Bucky remembered his reaction and had to huff a laugh. “Yeah, well. I stand by that.”

“Did I say you should not?”

Sitting back, Bucky studied Loki. “What’s your plan?”

Loki glanced at him, sidelong. “Plan?”

“Yeah. What are you going to do?”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Is this your way of asking if I have any future nefarious plans? I assure you, I am not very interested in Midgard anymore, so you can set that worry aside.”

Bucky leaned his elbows on the table. “I didn’t ask what you weren’t going to do.”

“You assume that I have plans,” Loki said lightly. “I do not. I am trying spontaneity, since my planning of late has not worked out terribly well.” His smile was dazzlingly false, and Bucky felt a twinge of temper and waited until it faded.

“So what,” he drawled. “You’re just going to wander around Asgard, almost completely helpless, until someone gets lucky and kills you?”

Loki shrugged loosely. “Why not?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I thought we had an honesty thing going.”

Loki’s head turned just fractionally toward Bucky, his expression strange. “Who said that I was lying?” Bucky jerked slightly, for a moment just…blank. Loki’s lips curved in a very small, mirthless smile. “The first time we spoke, you referred to there being a sword hanging over my head. You are not wrong. Sometimes I wonder if it would not be better to simply cut the thread that holds it up.”

A new knot seemed to have materialized in Bucky’s stomach, his skin crawling very briefly. Loki sounded so casual his first assumption was that he _was_ lying, though he couldn’t figure why. Maybe just to mess with him. But underneath that…it kind of fit. The seeming carelessness, the isolation, even, maybe, what he was doing now. Atonement, or something.

It was something Bucky had thought about, briefly, in the early days of his relative freedom. “You’re serious,” he said, slowly.

“It is something I have considered,” Loki said. “Why not?” Something must have shown on Bucky’s face, because Loki laughed quietly. “Oh, please. Do not feel it is necessary for you to attempt to come up with reasons _why not._ I am sure I have considered most of them.”

“Then why are you still here,” Bucky asked.

“Indecision? Cowardice? Obstinacy? Choose what explanation you like.”  Loki shrugged, his expression that odd mixture of melancholy and apathy, a very faint half smile on his lips. “Some of it is, I admit, the uncertainty of success. I know not how closely the Watchman watches me, and it would be so terribly embarrassing to try and be snatched back from death’s jaws yet again.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted violently. “Seems like giving up,” he said. His voice sounded odd to him, but Loki didn’t seem to notice anything strange.

“Every game-player has to know when to forfeit,” Loki said easily. “And of course – it is not a certainty. Merely a thought I have had, and passed the time with.” Loki waved a hand, idly, like he was talking about daydreaming and not contemplating suicide.

“This seems kind of like something I should mention to Thor,” Bucky said, aware that he’d broken one of the rules of their agreement. To his surprise, though, Loki didn’t seem particularly bothered by what he’d meant as a threat.

“You may if you like. It will change little, though, save to upset him.” Loki smiled very faintly. “A week at most, James Barnes, and none of this will be your problem. I would not think you inclined to make it otherwise.”

“I’m not,” Bucky said, but his voice came out a little too harsh. “Just seems like. I don’t know. A waste.”

Loki laughed. “You think so? Well. I shall keep that in mind.” He smiled crookedly, but Bucky’s stomach didn’t unknot. “You are an interesting one, Barnes. That is for certain.”

Bucky made himself shrug. “I guess that’s better than boring.”

Loki pressed his thumb briefly to his lips. “Yes,” he said. “It certainly is.”

* * *

Bucky left his… _session_ with Loki distracted, and – he could put a name to it – disturbed. It left him thinking about when he left Asgard, wondering what would happen to Loki. _Doesn’t matter,_ he told himself. _It’s none of your business, and he won’t be your problem anymore,_ but it nagged at him. Didn’t anyone _get_ that just having him loose and unable to fight back was a recipe for disaster? Thor, at least, had to know what was happening. Had to know that if it wasn’t stopped it would just escalate.

And Bucky had a feeling Loki didn’t exactly _de_ -escalate things once they started. Especially not if he was dancing on the edge of a death wish. Provoking a few bad tempered Aesir warriors seemed like it’d be an easy way to go.

He wondered if this was some kind of – last minute attempt at settling scores. Righting wrongs, or whatever, repaying debts. If that was the case, when Bucky went back to Earth…

But that was absurdly self-centered. It seemed like Loki had managed to survive just fine so far. Maybe he was reading too much into one weird conversation. Maybe Loki was just fucking with his head.

 _Sometimes I wonder if it would not be better to simply cut the thread that holds it up._ If you thought something was inevitable, Bucky could see how it might seem worth it to skip ahead.

 _Goddammit_ , Bucky thought. He needed to tell Thor.

“You there!” Someone called behind him, and Bucky wheeled, whole body tensing, but it was just one of the palace guards. ( _Just._ That wasn’t necessarily reassuring.) “Prince Thor has requested your presence.”

“Perfect timing,” Bucky muttered, rolling his shoulders back. “What about?”

“The prince did not say,” the guard said. “Come, this way. With speed: it seems to be a matter of some urgency.”

Bucky’s guts clenched, a jolt going through his body. Something happening on Earth? Had something gone wrong, with Steve and the rest, maybe Ross and his lackeys had found them and thought they were hiding Bucky- “Where,” he said, and it came out a growl.

“This way,” the guard said briskly, and Bucky hurried after him.

“Do you know what’s going on?” He asked. “Anything. What happened? What did he say?”

“I am not even a captain,” the guard said apologetically. “I am sorry, I can tell you nothing. All will be clear in a moment, I am sure.” They turned down another hallway, and Bucky realized that this part of the palace didn’t look familiar. His neck started to prickle, but the guard was stopping, indicating a door.

“Here, my lord,” he said. “Prince Thor is waiting for you.”

Bucky paused, his instincts prickling – something, but it was just his fear, the usual paranoia. And if something had gone wrong on Earth…he opened the door.

At first he didn’t see anyone. The room itself looked…disused, furnishings covered in dust. _No,_ Bucky thought, sudden and sharp. _Thor didn’t call me here. Trap._ He turned for the door, but it slammed in his face. Moved to go for one of the vases (heavy object, some kind of weapon) and froze.

He couldn’t move. He tried, imagined moving and sent the signal to his muscles, but it was like the air had turned solid around him and he was locked in place. He could just move his eyes enough to see the sole occupant of the room rise from the chair she had been using – cleared, of course, of dust.

“James Barnes,” Amora said. “How delightful to see you again.”

Bucky’s blood went cold. He tried to move again. Nothing. “Can’t say I can say the same,” he forced out. Amora’s smile widened, but there was nothing sweet about it now. Her eyes were steely.

“You do not know me, but I am not often refused,” Amora said. “I was… _very_ disappointed that you turned my offer down.”

Bucky forced a smile. “You know, this kinda just makes you look desperate.”

He’d expected anger, for that. But her smile just widened. “You should have taken my first offer,” she said, voice lowering, almost a croon. “I would have been good to you, soldier. But there is, as Midgardians so colorfully say, _more than one way to skin a cat._ ”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and he tried again to move, but there was no give, nothing to struggle against, nothing he could _fight._ “Back off,” he said, almost snarled as Amora advanced. “Get away from me-”

 _Clarity,_ he remembered suddenly. _Empty and focused._ He closed his eyes and tried to reach for that state, tried to sink into it. _If I can just – just-_

Amora palm pressed against his cheek. He tried to jerk away, pulse galloping, and he couldn’t find any calm at all, couldn’t even breathe fully. _Stupid,_ he thought. _You stupid goddamn idiot._

It wasn’t like Hydra. She didn’t rip into his brain like a hurricane but he knew she was there (get out get out get out), could feel her worming her way into his head, everything diminishing, diminishing (please no not again not again) until he went limp, breathing hard.

“There,” Amora murmured. She stroked his cheek gently. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He said nothing. There was nothing to say. He couldn’t remember why he’d been fighting.

“Now,” she murmured. “There are words, are there not? Words that will make you mine. That will make you the weapon I need.”

Bucky swayed. He didn’t want (of course he wanted, because she wanted it) to give her the words. They rose up in his mind anyway. _Zhelaniye. Rzhavet. Semnadtsat. Rassvet. Pech. Devyat. Dobrokachestvennaya. Vozvrashcheniye domoy. Odin. Gruzovoy avtomobil._

“Ah,” he heard her say. “Very good. Much as I would like to mold you for myself, James Barnes…I do not have the time. Hydra’s Winter Soldier will have to do.”

 _No,_ he thought, but it was dull and distant and far away. But it meant nothing. He had nothing to fight with.

Bucky was gone.

Amora looked him in the eyes, seeming satisfied with what she saw. “Good,” she said again. She ran her fingers down his metal arm, and he twitched. “Now. Let me tell you what you are going to do. You are going to go to Thor and tell him that you have decided to leave. Do not let him suspect anything. I am sure you can come up with a convincing reason for your sudden departure.” He nodded to show he understood. “Then you will come to me,” Amora said. “I will provide you with new armament, and appropriate weapons for my new warrior.”

He nodded again, not seeing the need for any extra words. She frowned. “Say yes, soldier.”

“Yes,” he said. She cocked her head.

“Yes, Lady Amora.”

Waste of time, he thought, but said, “yes, Lady Amora.”

She frowned, very slightly, but then stepped back. “Go,” she said. “Do not delay. We have business to see to on Midgard.”

Earth, his brain translated. He noted that detail, turning for the door. The guard that had led him was still standing there, his expression slightly glazed. Amora slipped out after him, then glanced at the man, and then at him.

“Kill him,” she said lightly.

It wasn’t easy. He didn’t struggle, exactly, except at the very end, but even with his metal hand it took a long time for him to go still. He pushed the body into the empty room and closed the door. Amora’s smile looked proud, pleased.

“Oh, but this is perfect,” she murmured. “You truly are a glorious thing, aren’t you?” He didn’t think that was a question that needed answering, so he stayed silent until she gestured. “You know what to do.”

He did. He went.

* * *

“What can I do for you?” Thor asked, smiling. In a good mood, then. That’d make this easier.

“I need to go,” he said. “Back.” The smile vanished, and Thor sat up straight.

“So suddenly?” He said. “Why? Has something happened?” His eyebrows furrowed. “Did Loki-“

“No,” he interrupted. “Nothing happened. I’ve just been gone too long, that’s all. And I’m doing a lot better.” Thor studied his face, not seeming convinced. He sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders. The kind of posture he knew he’d expect. “It’s not easy being here. I know it’s not on you, but…I stick out. And I miss…you know. Earth.”

Thor looked disappointed, but he nodded. “Obviously I will not keep you against your will,” he said slowly. “But if you would wait the span of a day, I can return with you-“

“No,” he said. “I can’t. I need to go today. But I can take care of it. I don’t. I’m not really big on dramatic goodbyes.”

Thor looked down, but he seemed to understand. Or at least accept. He stood, offering a hand. “I have been pleased to have you here, however little present I could be,” he said solemnly. “I will hope that we may meet again soon, that I might come to know you better.”

The right words didn’t come to mind, so he just tried to look stiff and awkward. Apparently that sufficed.

“Wait,” Thor said, as he was about to leave, and he tensed. “A gift. I would not have you leave without a gift.”

“I don’t need,” he started to say. Thor scoffed.

“It is not a matter of _need,_ ” he said. “Here, come.” He gestured for him to follow, leading him to another room and a cabinet Thor opened, rummaging through until he found a small wood box he presented to him. “Here. It may not be the sort of weapon you are most accustomed to using, but it is…of rare quality.”

He opened the box, startled and a little wary, but it was just a knife. Or not…just. He could tell looking at it that it was a _good_ one, and when he lifted it the balance was…perfect. “It is spelled,” Thor said. “It will never cut the user, and is inclined to return to your hand, so it will not easily be lost.”

Staring at the knife, once again he couldn’t find the right answer. “Thanks,” he said, honestly overwhelmed. He didn’t think anyone had given him a gift before. At least not that he could think of. And this…

This would be very useful, he was sure, wherever he and Amora were going.

“You are welcome,” Thor said, clasping his shoulder, and an odd feeling briefly went through him, not quite a shiver. A sense of something _wrong._ It was gone a moment later, though. “Are you certain you will not wait-“

“I’m sure.”

“Not even an hour, that I might accompany you to the Bifrost?” Thor sounded almost plaintive. He shook his head.

“It’d draw too much attention. I want to leave quietly.” Thor paused, and he hesitated. (That was odd. The Winter Soldier didn’t hesitate.)

“Have you…told Loki that you are going?” Thor asked. Another odd jolt.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t feel like I needed to.”

“No,” Thor said quickly, though by his frown he disagreed. “No, of course not.”

He closed the knife back in its box, tolerated one last clasp of his arm from Thor, and left. He moved quietly and surely, absolutely certain where he was going, steps taking him to Amora’s rooms. He knocked once, and she let him inside.

“Thor gave me a knife,” he said, holding up the wooden box. “Looks like a good weapon.”

Amora opened the box, looking for a moment like she wanted to laugh. “Oh, indeed,” she said. “Keep that. And remove that hideous clothing you are wearing. Your new garb is there.” She indicated one of the chairs, where there was indeed a pile of clothes. He obeyed, stripping out of his clothes without caring that he could feel her watching and slipping into the new ones. They felt strange, not like his. But he could adapt. He looked like one of the Aesir, he realized. Made sense. There was a belt, too, with a sheath. He slid the knife into it. He thought briefly of the things left in his other room, but if he’d needed them Amora would have said.

“You have not asked what we are doing,” Amora said.

“You’ll tell me if it matters,” he said simply. She laughed.

“A man of few words,” she murmured. “I do not object to that. Better that than one who loves the sound of his own voice.” She beckoned. “Come.”

He stepped close to her and she reached up, cupping his face in her hands and studying him. For a moment he thought she might kiss him, and did not know what he would do then, but she just smiled and drew away.

“With me, Winter Soldier,” she said, and stepped out into the hallway. He followed her, trailing just a couple steps behind, watching every angle for potential threats. There were a few people about, but none of them so much as looked twice, and as they kept walking even those few thinned out until they stepped out into sunlight. A courtyard, he thought. A fountain in the middle. And standing beside it-

Loki had turned the moment he’d heard footsteps, he was sure of it. His eyes flicked to Amora and his face froze into a hostile mask. “Why, look who it is,” he said silkily. “Still skulking around hunting for pets?”

“Better than skulking around being one,” Amora said, smiling. He shifted, slightly, surprised that Loki didn’t seem to be looking at him. Something Amora was doing, he decided, and relaxed, keeping an eye on Loki in case he tried anything. Or in case Amora wanted something done. “I do not have the time for you today, however. You will have to excuse me; some of us have more important things to do.”

She turned away, striding toward the other edge of the courtyard. She’d scarcely made it two steps, however, before Loki’s voice called, “wait.” Amora stopped, turning, eyebrows raised.

“You try my patience,” she began, but Loki shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Your companion. The one you are trying to hide. Him. Turn.”

He stayed very still. Looked to Amora, waiting for her command. Her mouth set in a thin line. “Go back to your cave, cur. You cannot demand anything from me.”

“I can demand to know why you are hiding your newest pet. And where you are in such a hurry to go.” Loki’s voice sounded different. Clearer, more regal, and cold. “You. Turn.”

It wasn’t Amora. Amora hadn’t ordered him. He shouldn’t.

He turned.

Loki’s eyes widened. “Barnes?” He said, sounding shocked, and no, that wasn’t right. “What are you-“ Loki broke off, his gaze flicking to Amora, and his expression transformed. His eyes blazed and his body coiled tight like a cat about to spring, lips peeling back in a snarl. “Let him go.”

Amora raised her eyebrows, expression the picture of innocence. “Beg pardon?”

Loki took a step toward her that he moved automatically to intercept. “I know what you’ve done,” he said. “I can see it, and even if I could not I know Barnes would never go willingly with you. Release him, or-“

“Or what?” Amora smiled patronizingly. “You will bark at me, yanking at your chain? Summon your master?” She laughed, strolling up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Why should James not join me willingly? Or is this – yet again – envy, that I have what you cannot?”

Loki’s face went white with rage, and he jerked forward only to be brought up short. “For the last time, Amora,” he said, voice harsh and grating. “Release whatever hold you have on Barnes, and go. Or I swear to you that I will _destroy_ you.”

“Oh,” Amora said. “I _tremble._ ” She paused. “Still. No sense in leaving a loose end.” Not even looking toward him, she said simply, “Be a good soldier, and put this pathetic creature out of his misery.”

Loki’s eyes went to him, and for a moment something twitched, but then it was gone. He moved toward Loki, who took a quick step back, some fear sliding into his expression.

“Barnes,” he said, low and fierce. “You have the will for this. I know you do. Focus and clarity, you only need a moment.”

He lunged, and Loki made a sharp noise and tried to get out of the way, but he had him, dragging his head back by a handful of hair and drawing the knife, bringing it up to Loki’s throat.

And then again, he – hesitated.

“That’s mine,” Loki said. “That’s my knife. With my magic.”

Loki grinned, sudden and wild, and he felt something like a hum vibrate through the blade. Loki’s hands flashed up, gripping either side of his head, and even as he started the motion to slash his neck open-

_(explosion in his skull, like a star going supernova but contained in the small confines of his head, he was on fire, fire behind his eyes, boiling him dry, burning searing heat driving deeper, a white-hot knife plunging into the core of everything, was this what it felt like to die-)_

Bucky reeled back, jerking away as Loki’s hands fell from his head and shoving him hard. Loki stumbled and fell. (Bucky, his _name._ ) His head spun and he felt sick, dizzy, confused. What had just – what did Loki just-

“What are you waiting for?” Amora’s voice was sharp. “ _Finish it._ ”

Bucky looked at the knife in his hand. _That’s mine,_ Loki had said. He lifted his eyes and stared at Loki, sprawled on his back and laughing wildly. “Oh no,” Loki said. “No, Amora. He won’t.” He raised his head, and at first Bucky thought he’d broken Loki’s nose without realizing, but no, he was just bleeding.

Bucky turned toward her, anger starting in the pit of his stomach. No, worse than anger. Fury. “What did you do,” Amora snapped at Loki, and then, to Bucky, “ _Zhelaniye. Rzhavet-_ ”

He jerked, flinched – but nothing. Not even a twinge. And Amora. Amora who had reached into his head, scoured him out, because she wanted a weapon. A weapon or a pet or maybe both. He brought the knife up and took a step toward her, knowing he couldn’t win but _damn her he could at least get something in-_

Thunder boomed overhead. Amora’s head swiveled upwards. Loki’s dropped back down, laughing turning into a sort of choking sound. Bucky lunged for Amora and she wheeled on a dime, something wrapping around his throat and squeezing.

Another, louder _boom_ and He dropped to his knees, coughing, as the ground shook, Thor crashing to earth. His eyes went swiftly from Loki to Bucky to Amora. Amora’s eyes widened as lightning crackled around the head of that big hammer Thor always kept around.

 _Cool,_ Bucky thought, a little dazedly. He stumbled to his feet and went over to Loki, dropping back down next to him. He’d rolled over, probably so he didn’t swallow all of the blood from his nose making a mess of his face.

“What the hell did you do,” Bucky asked hoarsely. Loki’s eyes were a little glazed and unfocused.

“You’re welcome,” Loki said hoarsely, and made a sound almost like a giggle. Bucky stared at him.

“James Barnes!” he heard, and turned to see Thor striding over to them, hammer still crackling with lightning and face – ha – stormy. “Are you hale?”

“Think so,” he said. “Where’s Amora?”

“Gone,” Thor said darkly. “Vanished, by some sorcery.” Thor’s eyes moved to Loki, who dropped his head back to the ground.

“Go on,” he said. “I assume you have accusations to make.”

“I was summoned by the binding magic,” Thor said, his voice still harsh and plainly angry. “That Loki was using his magic.”

Loki made a sort of strangled laughing sound. “I was. Was counting on that. Barnes could hardly d-defeat Amora on his own.”

“But what did you _do,_ ” Bucky demanded, wanting to shake him. “It felt like my head was gonna-“

“I fixed you,” Loki said. His eyes slid out of and then back into focus. “As I said. You’re welcome.”

Bucky stared. “Loki,” Thor said slowly. “What do you mean? You mean that you removed Amora’s spellwork?”

“No,” Loki said. “All of it. S’gone. You are clean now.” He grinned, something almost pained about it. “You are your own. No more words. No more triggers. No more Hydra. I did it.” The smile shifted, toward something weaker but more real. “Congratulations, Bucky Barnes. You are free.”

“Wait,” Bucky said, but with true dramatic timing, Loki’s eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp.

* * *

Asgard’s healers pronounced him cured. Asgard’s _head_ healer, this time, a woman named Eir who seemed decidedly unimpressed by Thor’s hovering and treated Bucky a little less like an inconvenient pet.

“I cannot find anything,” she said eventually. “I can sense where there _was_ a…wrongness, and some scars remain, but nothing more than that.” She made a gesture and the weird magic MRI…thing…stopped humming. Thor looked from her to Bucky and back again, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You’re sure?” Bucky asked roughly, trying to squash the bubble of stupid hope that swelled in his chest. “There’s nothing left? Nothing at all?”

Eir gave him a look. “That is what I said,” she said. To Thor: “what did you say happened?”

“I am not…certain,” Thor said, glancing at Bucky, who sat up.

“Loki – uh, did something. I don’t know what it was.”

“Hm.” Eir frowned. “I was under the impression the second prince could not perform magic.”

“That was supposed to be the case,” Thor agreed. “The Einherjar asked him to explain, but he has not spoken to them.”

 _Unsurprising,_ Bucky thought, but mentioning Loki made him feel itchy. “But it worked,” he insisted. “Whatever he did…my head’s. It’s clear.”

“It seems so,” Eir said, still frowning. “I would be curious how…but Loki’s methods always were unorthodox. Should he change his mind about speaking, King Thor, I would like to question him myself. If we can learn aught from this…”

Bucky scarcely listened, though. All he really heard was _it seems so._ His brain buzzed, almost dizzy, the future suddenly…open. He could go back to Earth. Could go back and do…anything. Or, not anything, but he could be _free_ and not have to worry about someone turning him into a weapon again (at least unless, some part of him reminded Bucky grimly, Amora or someone like her came back around). His life was his, at least as much as it ever could be.

Maybe compared to other people it wasn’t much, but it was more than Bucky’d ever thought he’d have again.

“Are you well?” Thor asked, and Bucky realized he’d just gone quiet, staring at nothing.

“Yeah,” he said, and smiled. “Yeah, actually.” He got up, turning to Eir, thought about bowing and decided he’d just embarrass himself. “Thanks,” he said honestly.

“You are welcome,” she said, after a brief pause. “Farewell, James Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he said, glancing briefly at Thor. “Just Bucky’s…good.”

He walked out with Thor, feeling looser than he had in…months. Maybe years. There was a bubble in his stomach that he could just identify as happiness.

“I am glad you are well,” Thor said, after they’d been walking for a bit. “Whatever…however much I am appalled by the circumstances leading to it. I did not watch Amora closely enough. I did not ever think she would come near you.”

Bucky shrugged. “I should’ve told you the first time she did. Guess I’m not used to the idea of having help.”

Thor shook his head. “All the same. That she was able to…and even if he used it well, that Loki’s restraints were not so strong as I believed – it seems I have been neglectful of many things.” He sighed. “But those burdens are mine. I suppose…now you are to return to Midgard in truth?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “But – I’m going to take a couple days. Don’t want to rush.” He paused. “Do I get to keep the knife?” He asked, half joking.

Thor laughed. “Of course. I would have given it to you in any case. And you understand if you are to stay…there will be a feast.”

“I think I can manage one of those.” Bucky glanced at Thor sidelong. “Is there a reason you gave me a knife Loki made?”

Thor blinked, giving Bucky a quick look, and then made a bit of a face. “I…perhaps. The weapons he made were among the finest I have – aside from Mjolnir, of course,” he said. “And I would not give you a gift of less than excellent quality.”

“But that’s not all,” Bucky said.

“No,” Thor said after a moment. “No, I suppose it is not. I…hm.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I am not envious,” he said eventually. “That Steve has had the dearest friend of his heart restored to him.” Bucky felt almost embarrassed, but said nothing. “But it does…oh, I do not know. It is foolishness.”

Bucky thought he got it, though. Sort of. “You can’t help but see the similarities,” he said.

“I do not think you are the same, or even much alike,” Thor said quickly. Bucky remembered what Loki’d said: _do not think I am saying we are the same. I know better than that._

“It’s not completely crazy,” Bucky said. “I can see why you’d think it.” And now that they were talking about Loki…Bucky took a deep breath and let it out. He couldn’t just…leave without saying anything. Without some kind of resolution, however unlikely it might be that he’d get anything.

Still, something felt a little wrong about Loki being shut up in a cage while Bucky celebrated his freedom.

“Where is he?” He asked Thor. Thor breathed out through his nose.

“Confined,” he said after a moment. “And closely guarded. Until I know how he managed to circumvent the binding…” Thor sighed. “I know he used his magic to help you. This time. But I cannot trust that he will not…”

Bucky looked down at his metal hand. Even if all the rest was gone, he thought, he’d still have that reminder. He thought, suddenly, of what he’d been meaning to tell Thor before Amora had grabbed him. “I think Loki’s suicidal.”

Thor closed his eyes. “I know.”

Bucky stopped short, frowning. “You – what?”

Thor heaved a sigh. “Or…I have suspected as much. But what can I do? Confine him more closely? That would only drive him into a corner. Seek to remove all dangers? Loki is far cleverer than I am, and nothing drives him to do something more than attempts to prevent it. The healers inform me there are certain magics that might help, but that there is every chance that they would do more harm than good, if they worked at all. I cannot see a way to…” Thor pressed his lips together. “The only recourse I have is to give him as much rein as I dare, and hope that he can find some satisfaction for himself.”

“That’s…” Bucky shifted. “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.

“You need not apologize,” Thor said heavily. “Indeed, it has seemed…I was glad, to see that Loki was taking interest in helping you. I had hoped perhaps it would let him realize that he may use his skill for other than evildoing.”

“Didn’t he?” Bucky said. Thor shook his head.

“Yes, but…much as I might wish to, I cannot trust my brother. He is changeable as the wind. His intentions this time…I wish I could trust that they were purely good. But I cannot.”

Bucky grimaced, and looked down at the floor, scuffing his heels on the tile.

“Can I talk to him,” he said eventually. Thor turned to look at him fully, frowning.

“You wish to?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “If nothing else, I’d like to thank him.”

Thor nodded. “Then – of course. At your pleasure.”

“Now?” Bucky asked. Thor studied him again, and nodded slowly.

“I do not see why not,” he said after a pensive pause. “Follow me.”

* * *

They didn’t, as Bucky had half expected, to down to some kind of prison or dungeon. Thor led him up, instead, climbing a narrow staircase that was apparently the only path to a room in an isolated high corner of the castle. As they climbed, Bucky considered the height, and something must have shown on his face because Thor said, “there are no windows in this room. It was once…it was formerly used to house royal prisoners awaiting trial, in the days of Asgard’s civil wars.”

Bucky half wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure he wanted a full history lesson, and they were already on the landing, looking at a plain door guarded by two fully armed men – Einherjar, Bucky supposed. They straightened from their conversation on seeing Thor.

“J- Bucky Barnes wishes to speak with Loki,” Thor said.

“Your Majesty,” one of them said, stepping aside. Thor pressed his hand flat to the door, which flared with some kind of light and then clicked open. He stepped inside, and Bucky followed him.

There was a strange quality to the air, and sort of muffled stuffiness that dulled sound. “Loki,” Thor said. “You have a visitor.”

Bucky stepped around him, taking in the room. There wasn’t much to take in – a low bed, a basin for washing, in one corner a curtain that Bucky supposed probably hid some kind of toilet. Loki was lying on the bed, his hands folded on his stomach, eyes on the ceiling. Bucky could’ve mistaken him for dead if it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t answer Thor, though.

“It’s me,” Bucky said, hoping that would get some reaction. He thought he saw the faintest twitch of Loki’s head, but nothing more. He stared at Loki’s profile, thinking. “Can you go?” he said to Thor, after a moment. “Wait outside, or something?”

Thor hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Loki. Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I’m gonna be fine,” he said. “I’m pretty sure if he wanted me dead he’d have let it happen already.” He thought he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the faintest flicker of Loki’s mouth.

“Very well,” Thor said at length. “I will be just outside. The door will not open for you. Knock twice when you are ready to come out.”

He waited for Thor to leave and the door to close behind him to say anything, and opened with, “there’s no chair in here. Want to move so I can sit down?”

Continued silence. Bucky drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Okay,” he said. “I guess not. But I don’t know what you think not talking to me’s going to do.” Loki didn’t reply. His eyes were open, Bucky realized, but unblinking, and he couldn’t read any expression on his face. “Anyway. I wanted to say thanks. Just got an official clean bill of health from the healer lady, Eir? You already knew that, but since it’s official now…”

Still nothing. Bucky’s skin prickled uneasily. “A ‘you’re welcome’ would be fine, here,” he said dryly.

Loki’s eyes closed. “You are welcome,” he said. There was no tone in his voice. “Was that all?”

“Budge over,” Bucky tried again. Loki didn’t move, and Bucky gave up, shoving his legs out of the way and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “No, that’s not all. I know everyone else has already asked you this, but I think you kind of owe me.” Loki twitched again, a movement quickly stifled. “You said you couldn’t use magic. Could you do that all along? If so, why wait? Why not just…”

“I have never owed you anything,” Loki said. “My reasons are my own.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Maybe you don’t owe me. But I wanna know. Just for me. What’s the point in keeping it a secret anyway? They’ll just leave you in here until they know.”

Loki was quiet for a long moment, and Bucky was about to snap something when he sighed. “I told you, did I not? Not all of my magic was cut off. The majority of it, yes, and not nearly enough to do anything with, but…with care, I could save that little. Gather it and hold it. Over the course of a year, that generates almost enough to break Asgard’s binding.” He raised his hands slightly, indicating the bands of metal around his wrists. “Perhaps another month and…” He laughed, quietly, bitterly.

Bucky stared at him. Whatever he’d expected… “Why?” He asked roughly.

Loki shrugged, his eyes open again but still staring directly upwards. “It was not an entirely considered decision. I could argue that you were about to kill me, and it was either lose my chance at escape or lose my life.”

“Except you don’t necessarily have a problem with the latter,” Bucky said. Loki’s lips curved in a very small, mirthless smile.

“An instinct for survival is hard to override.”

That made sense, sort of. But something in Bucky’s stomach still said _lie._ He shifted slightly, wishing Loki would actually look at him. “Well…thanks.”

Loki coughed a laugh. “For acting to save my own skin?”

“Whyever you did it,” Bucky said slowly, “result’s the same. My head’s mine. Hydra’s mess is gone. And Amora’s out of my brain. Seems like I came out of it pretty good. So seriously: thank you. I might.” He rubbed his hands on his legs. “I might actually get sort of a life now, instead of indefinite freezer time. Thanks to you.”

Loki said nothing, the corners of his mouth spasming. He looked…uncomfortable, Bucky thought. Like he didn’t know how to deal with being thanked. Bucky stared at him and waited, wondering what he’d decide to do.

Eventually he sighed heavily and sat up, swinging his legs to the floor but still not so much as glancing at Bucky. “You really ought to be flattered,” he said at length, voice still toneless, though it also sounded…careful. “Amora is – many things, but she has good taste. And only ever wants the best.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, I’m really flattered.”

Loki laughed soundlessly and without much humor, looking away from Bucky towards one of the walls. “Well, she wasn’t wrong in seeing it in you.”

Bucky blinked, turning and looking directly at Loki, who wasn’t looking at him. Trying to decide what to make of that. “Thanks?” He said, a little quizzical.

“Is that so strange to you?” Loki asked, he glanced sidelong at Bucky, lips twisting up at one corner in a wry smile, though the expression in his eyes was almost desperately melancholy. “You are strong-willed, resilient, brave. Passing clever, a skilled warrior. And not uncomely.”

Bucky blinked again, and then laughed, sort of strangled. “Is that your way of saying you think I’m handsome?” He asked, mostly joking. Loki said nothing, lips twisting a little further, and Bucky stared at him, thought _you hardly know me_ but maybe that didn’t matter. His mouth went a little dry.

Loki turned his head eventually, looking at Bucky with his eyebrows raised. “Huh,” he said, coherently. Loki laughed, though it sounded faintly bitter.

“Farewell, Barnes,” he said. “Try to avoid sorceresses in the future. I do not expect I will be there to save you again.”

“Bucky’s fine,” he said, and then swallowed, hesitating, but- “maybe not. You don’t know that, do you?”

Loki raised his eyebrows, before standing and moving a few steps away. “Do I look like I am going anywhere?”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Thor wants to forgive you,” he said. “And – never know when the Earth might need saving. Maybe some kind of magic – whatever. So. Right?”

Turning slowly, Loki looked at him with an odd, unreadable expression, his head cocking slightly to the side. “Is that an invitation, Barnes? Your way of asking me to visit?”

Bucky stood up and walked over, slowly. “Could be,” he said.

Loki looked down at him, eyebrows pulled together like he was trying to puzzle Bucky out. It was kind of a funny expression, really. Bucky raised his hand very slowly, but Loki flinched back. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said.

“I know,” Bucky said roughly. Loki held very still, made the quietest of noises as Bucky’s fingers threaded into his hair.

It wasn’t long. Was a little awkward. Both their lips were dry and Loki seemed afraid to move. Not a stunner, for a first kiss after a seventy-year dry spell. But there was something to the sound Loki made when Bucky accidentally tugged his hair, and the tingle that followed the brush of Loki’s fingers on the side of his neck.

Loki pulled away and stepped back first, looking a little wild-eyed. “You have to go,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, calmer than he felt, pulse going a little too fast. He licked his lips. “So I’ll be seeing you. Right?”

“Maybe,” Loki said. He looked skittish, raw, and Bucky thought it might be the most genuine expression he’d ever seen on his face.

“Make it a yes,” Bucky said. “And…that sword. The one over your head.”

“What about it,” Loki said.

Bucky met his eyes. “Nothing’s inevitable. Swords rust. You can move out from under it. You’re not dead until you’re dead.”

Something stirred, faintly, in Loki’s eyes. “Those are your words of wisdom, Bucky Barnes?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He knocked twice, summoned a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Or at least, dammit, he hoped so.


End file.
